


He's A Parting Gift

by CharlieCappuccino



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood Loss, Dubious Consent, Healthy growth, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kidnapping with extra steps, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Possession, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, and they were ROOMMATES, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 80,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieCappuccino/pseuds/CharlieCappuccino
Summary: “You’re going to be living with me, Dr. Seward. And this?” Dracula asked, tilting Jack’s chin up just a bit more until now the only place Jack truly could look was the vampire’s eyes. “This eye contact problem you’ve got… it needs to be fixed.”Jack clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to spit in Dracula’s face. Rather, he tried to swallow down sand. His entire throat was dry, his mouth, even, his tongue.“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Jack mouthed.A pause from the vampire. And then he let out a humorless breath that resembled a chuckle.“I thought I knew, Dr. Seward. I really did.”
Relationships: Brief Lucy Westerna/Jack Seward, Dracula/Dr. Seward, Dracula/Jack Seward, Dracula/John Seward
Comments: 94
Kudos: 279





	1. Thanatophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanatophobia - the fear of death

At first glance, Dr. Seward was a thin, nervous boy that reminded Dracula of one single person, and it made him shudder: Jonathan Harker. His eyes were glued to the smaller man as he timidly entered the room, bright blue eyes glancing around the room until he came to set his bag down ever so gently on the table. Everything about him spoke docile and nervous. 

He was faintly aware of Zoe struggling to sit down on the other side of the table. Rather, he tried to restrain himself, fruitlessly, as he took long steps towards the boy. In the rush, John – well, they even shared the same name – stumbled back. Masked fear overcame his features, and once they were a fourth of a foot apart, he only looked at Dracula’s lips. Something he found enticing and delicious.

He smelled, firstly, outrageously and almost painfully clean. Like bleach or chlorine. Everything about him was so put together except for the fact that his breath smelled very, very faintly of alcohol and his eyes were as wide as oceans. Just as deep and curious as Jonathon’s.

There was nothing particularly special about him. He was attractive, sure, and Dracula could taste how smart he was, and he looked just like Jonathan Harker… but his blood, his fear masked with courage… Well, there was nothing special about that. In fact, he was quite the opposite of his dear Lucy whom he enjoyed so much.

They had had a moment, hadn’t they? Maybe this was just a delusion on his part, then. His fascination with Lucy was latching onto anything associated with her.

He took in a deep breath. “How kind of you,” he mused to Zoe, eyes not even briefly leaving the doctor. He was beautiful. And he was only looking at Dracula’s lips. Not his eyes. He couldn’t see those ‘Johnny Blue-Eyes’. “Bringing a bottle to the party.”

The other wouldn’t look at his eyes. No matter how intensely Dracula looked at him. 

Zoe said nothing, and neither did Dr. Seward, which prompted him to just get the other to look him in the eyes. To see his Johnny Blue Eyes. He clenched his jaw, restraining himself from just gripping the other’s face until he stared him in the eyes. 

Gentle, he told himself. These humans are fragile.

Taking in a shaky breath, he traced his fingers down Dr. Seward’s neck until he could practically feel the blood. It was bad. Not quite as tasty, not quite as interesting, but it was just the same as Jonathan Harker’s. It would be delicious. It would have all the knowledge of the world now, it would have all of John’s experiences, and Dracula would have a new bride. The best one.

Despite the touch, Dr. Seward wouldn’t so much as glance at him. So he threw precaution to the wind and grabbed the other’s cheeks in one hand, prying his gaze from the floor and to his own.

There were his blue eyes. His Johnny Blue Eyes. It had to be him. Someone like him, at least, because if Agatha had had a predecessor so similar in shape and style, then certainly Johnny could have too, despite how dead he’d been after Dracula took his skin.

What if Mina… well, that was for a later thought.

“Very inferior vintage,” he said through gritted teeth, practically shouting to Zoe. But there wasn’t a second wasted with the doctor’s eye contact. “But the gesture is appreciated.”

Zoe wasn’t fazed. In fact, she met John’s trusting glance with a strong, undeterred one, and Dracula wanted to seethe as he looked away. He didn’t speak, though. “Put him down,” she mumbled. As if she didn’t care whether he did or not, because she had something much more important to care about.

“Why?” he spat, testing her. Did he really care about this boy? What was their connection? What did she know about him?

“This is England,” she told him. Giving nothing away. “Conversation precedes dinner.”

She did care about him. That had been some sick sort of joke. John was an offering, but not in the way the boy thought. He thought he was here to give blood or protect Zoe, but that wasn’t the case. 

Dracula couldn’t look away from the doctor. Zoe knew this would happen. She had this whole situation planned but Johnny Blue-Eyes was the one that wasn’t in the know, and that’s why Dracula fell into her trap. 

It wasn’t a bad one.

“Quite right, Dr. Helsing,” he spat.

He threw the doctor away, and he landed against the table, leg lifting to balance himself. Everything about him was gentle and delicate – even the way he held himself against the table until he was ready to stand by himself. Even the way he still wouldn’t look at Dracula, and kept his head stooped so low that it was only possible to look at his knees, not even the ground.

And then he spoke. “You’re expecting company?” John Seward croaked.

The blue eyes were cast to the set up on the table. Not on Dracula. Where he wanted them – needed them. He just wanted to see them again. Those seconds of bliss where John had to look at him had been… beautiful. Delicious. Better than a full-body meal.

“Yes,” Dracula mumbled off-handedly. 

“Lucy Westenra,” Zoe offered. She raised an eyebrow.

How clever she thought she was. But she was dying. There was nothing clever about death. Nothing clever about contracting some idiot disease you couldn’t even get out of your system. No, Zoe Van Helsing was not a clever woman because she was dying. 

John, on the other hand…

“Oh, you know her?” Dracula inquired, settling for humor to mask his irritation. 

Zoe was useless now. She was going to be gone too soon and there was nothing any of them could do about it. She was a wasted meal – a wasted youth. There was nothing special about her because she was going to be gone soon.

His interest in her was fading too fast.

That’s why she’d brought John. She was clever.

“Well, this is Dr. Seward,” Zoe motioned to Johnny Blue-Eyes. Her tone gave away the fact that she knew this information had already been known. “It was his phone you stole.”  
Dracula knew that. Lucy had said that. They’d talked about him a bit – not too much, just enough to where he knew that Lucy didn’t pay too much mind to him. John – or, Jack, as she called him, because she knew him intimately – had an infatuation with her. Something he’d promptly cut off once she got engaged to the irrelevant Quincey, who had been John’s competition. Because he wasn’t one for an unbeatable challenge, was he? Not against some dumb Texan like Quincey.

No, John was too smart to understand the point of pursuing an unreachable solution.

Dracula grinned as John spoke again. “You might say I introduced you,” he whispered.

A quick glance of John’s eyes and Dracula was once again thinking about them. He bit his lip, forcing himself to brush it off with more humor that the humans didn’t like. “Ah,” Dracula mused, “and now she’s dead.”

It wasn’t humor. It was a blatant stab. Anything to see more than masked fear in the doctor’s posture. Anger, perhaps, or a challenge. Anything to make him tense and glare at Dracula.

But nothing. John kept his eyes on the floor, fists clenched.

Well, it was something.

Zoe spoke to fill the gap of silence. “If you’re expecting Lucy to rise from the grave this evening, Count Dracula, you might be interested to know that she was cremated.”

Zoe Van Helsing thought she was clever, he seethed to himself. 

But he was excited now. He was ready to throw John to the wall, ready to shove him until he looked at him. It was an opportunity, the Count decided, to get Johnny Blue-Eyes to look at him. 

“Cremated?” he began. And really, he was a bit angry that they’d allowed this. But it was more-so that Lucy had allowed it. That she had been so dumb as to not heed his advice – to not heed the king of vampire’s advice about how to deal with your corpse. It was beyond him that she hadn’t at least considered it and here she was… well, here she was going to be. “But I told her. I warned her. And still, she let them put her in the fire?”

“Apparently,” Zoe shrugged. She was seated, completely uncaring as Dracula approached John once more.

He got in his face this time. Closer. So that he could inspect every aspect of the boy’s face, the boy’s eyes, now looking at him with something more than what Johnathan Harker had. This was something more lively, more kind, more innocent. It was beautiful. So much more than Dracula knew he could ever be. 

“No,” he continued, feeding the moment. Just to keep John’s eyes on him. Just to soak in this moment. “No, you don’t understand. She would’ve been conscious the whole time. Her flesh melting, her cells carbonizing, every particle of her being incinerated.”

It was enough, he figured, as the other boy looked at him with a type of courage that gave away a sort of past abuse. He was used to being yelled at like this. Used to being hurt. It didn’t matter to him anymore, the Count felt. His pulse was raised, though, and he was at least a little scared, because now it was the Count addressing him. 

He took in a breath, shrugging as he stepped back. “Stings a bit, I believe,” he finished.

As if on cue, the doorbell buzzed. Dracula knew it was her. Even from the other side of the room, through a door and a wall, he could smell her. It, more like. Because she would be in such a condition that there was nothing more of a lady left. Just bones, ash, burned flesh.

Well, it would be disgusting, and he didn’t quite want her to come inside because he just wanted learn everything there was to know about John and figure out why exactly Zoe brought him here, but he couldn’t. He just had to wait through this. 

“Ah,” he said. “There, you see? You have underestimated the resilience of a vampire.”

Oh, he really didn’t want her to come inside. But he put on a front – a very grinning, eager, exciting front – as he rounded the table to reach the door. The doorbell continued buzzing quickly and impatiently.

“Ah!” he sang. “I always liked a lively one.”

And then he paused. 

John was a fragile boy. More fragile than the brides Dracula had had before his 123 years in the sea, more fragile than the women hidden behind pounds of smelly make-up, more fragile than the hungry women locked in boxes, terrified of what they were. 

No, John was more fragile because he was so broken that now all he knew was a courageous front that meant nothing to her. John didn’t know courage. He feigned it. It was why he only looked the Count in the eyes when he had to, or why he kept his eyes on the ground otherwise.

He’d been hurt. 

He was a fragile little thing.

But until this boiled over, Dracula would act like he didn’t care or notice. “Um,” he thought, leaning over the chair at the head of the table to peer at John. The bright blue eyes lifted to his. “Dr. Seward, she was your friend, was she?”

The boy’s courageous mask didn’t falter as he looked at Dracula through hooded eyes. “Yes,” he whispered.

Dracula clicked his tongue. “Now might be a good time to reflect that beauty is only skin-deep,” he suggested. It was off-handed, it sounded like a joke, but it wasn’t. He wanted John to be ready. Just based on what Dracula could smell, Lucy would look like a walking bonfire… minus the fire. 

“Pray for her, Jack,” said Zoe. Dracula turned to glance at her curiously. There was no way that thick, Dutch accent was the English Zoe Van Helsing. “Remember, it is the soul, not the aspect, that one loves.”

Dracula was, indeed, intrigued. Not because he cared for Zoe any longer, but because she was dying and yet still managed to carry the conscious of Agatha Van Helsing. It was interesting. Impressive, even. But not enough for him to care anymore for her. His patience for her death was dwindling and, frankly, he wouldn’t care if she keeled over and died just then.

Well, not before telling him just what she wanted him to do with John.

“Dr. Helsing,” he asked, “you don’t sound quite like yourself. Are you alright?”

“Perfectly,” she only said.

And then he swung the door open.

Lucy was just as bad as Dracula had assumed. After all, there were only so many ways a girl can look after being thrown in the fire, locked in a box. He smiled at her, subconsciously considering the fact that he was mocking Dr. Seward’s obvious repulsion at the sight of her. He could hear the subtle swallow of shock.

“Hello, you,” Lucy sang. She had a painful-looking smile on her crisp face, except she couldn’t feel it. 

He didn’t want to describe her, but it felt mandatory to understand what had really happened when she’d been cremated. So, he just assessed her.

Her skin was burned. And not just burned, but it was as if she was a marshmallow who’d been left in the fire for a second too long and the fire had enveloped the entire thing and made it puffy and black and tasteless. Her hair had been burned – he was a little impressed that she still had any, as he knew that hair burned quicker than anything, but perhaps the thickness postponed the entire, unnatural demise of its entirety. 

Black spit dribbled off her chin and the idea that he’d kissed her at any point made him shift just a little.

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” he asked, stepping to the side to let her in.

She grinned. Something cracked in her face. “I can always sniff you out, babe.”

Oh, shut up, he thought. 

She and John met eyes and for a second, Dracula could hear John’s breath hitch. Not out of fear – no, this was more of an entranced breath. One that told Dracula the boy could never not like Lucy, even like this. But he was confused and slowly the fear began to seep into his eyes, tears brimming against the bright blue.

“Jack,” Lucy greeted. Because they were close – she got to call him Jack. “Oh, Jack, what are you doing here?”

The girl’s brown slightly burnt eyes skimmed the room until her gaze landed on Zoe. A smile once again greeted her lips and ashy flesh flicked off of her skin, landing delicately on the floor. She didn’t notice. “Oh! And who’s this? Finally, you bring someone… Bit pale, though, if you don’t mind me saying.”

The Count glanced over to John, who didn’t move an inch. He stayed painfully still, hardly even breathing, as his eyes remained trained directly on Lucy. Oh, to have that sort of eye contact…

Lucy took in a breath, raising an eyebrow to Zoe. “Did you start without me?”

“I’m not on the menu. I’m an old friend,” Zoe replied calmly. Her eyes slid over to the Count, Dutch accent thick as she spoke again, more to him now. “We go way back.”

It was Agatha. This must’ve been Agatha’s plan.

Lucy, unbothered, turned to John. The boy hardly flinched, licking his lips as he stared at her still. She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. A delighted chuckle escaped her. “Why are you just standing there, Jack?” She sighed. “Kiss me. Kiss me, Jack.”

Burned feet slid across the floor as she approached him. He didn’t move still, staring at her with adoration, a tear slipping down his cheek. The Count almost wanted to lurch forward and yank her away from the doctor’s presence – hurl her out a window, maybe, but he didn’t want to break it. 

Also, John was fragile. So, so fragile. This was hard… It would be harder to watch the love of his life get thrown from a window.

Or, maybe that would be easier.

“Kiss me,” she insisted, going to touch him, and only then did John flinch back.

“Lucy, no,” he whispered. His voice broke. She was so important to him, the Count could feel, that he didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t know how to hurt her.

In fact, the Count could guess that Doctor John Seward didn’t know how to hurt anyone.

“Come on, Jack,” Lucy continued, undeterred by the look of sorrow in John’s eyes. She couldn’t notice. “Kiss me like you used to. Kiss me.”

Did she love him? Is that why she was doing this? Or could she feel the Count’s infatuation with him and wanted to rub it in?

The Count straightened his shoulders. He wanted this to be over. “Kiss the girl, Dr. Seward,” he growled. “Journeys end in lovers meeting in.” The word came like acid off his tongue, but he spat it out anyway and watched John tilt his head in denial.

This irritated Lucy. She didn’t know what was wrong – she thought she was beautiful, as that’s all she saw in her reflections – but she could feel that something might have been. It was delicious watching her bristle at the idea of someone not liking her.

“What’s wrong, Jack?” Lucy seethed. “You can’t look at me now? The boy who looks at me all day, every day, can’t you look now? What’s the matter, Jack?”

Dracula was becoming unsettled. He still had the urge to make Lucy leave – to throw her anywhere but in John’s vicinity. To put his hands on John and make him talk and look and be a fragile person. He wanted Zoe gone, too, and he wanted to know why she’d brought him here. 

But he had to be patient. 

“Lucy,” John whispered, as he always did, “can’t you see yourself?”

No, silly, Dracula wanted to tell him, she most certainly can’t. Just as I can’t see myself.

“Of course I can see myself,” Lucy giggled. She looked down to the shiny table, stroking a hand down her cheek. So obsessed with herself, she smiled brightly. “Bloofer lady… bloofer lady. Everyone – everyone smiles when you’re beautiful.” 

Teary eyes batted in John’s direction. “Why aren’t you smiling, Jack?”

Say that name again, Dracula wanted to say, and I will tear your lips off.

The doctor didn’t know what to say. His nervous blue eyes glanced to Zoe, begging silently for help, and she got up quickly – or, as quickly as a person plagued with cancer could – and came to his assistance. 

“If you’re so beautiful, Lucy,” Zoe began, rounding the table, “why don’t you take a selfie?” She took her phone out and set it on the table beside Lucy’s finger with a nervous pace, making sure to not be too close to her. 

Lucy only narrowed her eyes at her. “You smell funny.”

Dracula wanted this to go along faster. “She’s dying,” he grumbled. Just get it done with, he wanted to say.

This didn’t do anything for anyone, as Zoe only continued, “We wear the bitter bouquet, Lucy. The blood of the dying is death to a vampire.”

To which Lucy, completely uninterested in someone she couldn’t eat, mumbled, “You smell of death.”

“It’s not just me,” Zoe hummed.

And then Lucy raised the camera. And she took a selfie.

And she screamed.

There was no hesitation from John as he began to get to his knees, but Dracula felt bitter at the idea of them sharing yet another bonding moment, and he rushed forward to get John away. “My patient, Dr. Seward,” he scowled over Lucy’s wailing. “My patient.”

Reluctantly, the boy stepped back, but watched. His eyes were burning into them as Dracula tried coaxing Lucy to silence. He put his hands on either side of her head, smiling bitterly. What a child. A dumb, yet adventurous, child. One that hadn’t heeded his very specific, very intelligent warning. This was her fault.

“Lucy, my love,” he whispered to her. She continued to cry. “It’s a shock. It’s a shock. But you’ve done so well.”

It was a lie. He continued. “You’ve done so well.”

“Look at me!” Lucy cried. 

“I see you, bloofer lady,” Dracula whispered, smiling gently. He ran a hand down her cheek, only basking in the knowledge that Dr. Seward was watching them. He was crying, too, but not nearly as loudly. Everything about him was silent, even in the way that he didn’t even move.

“Will I always look like this?” she moaned.

Dracula could see her as some sort of huntress, a wandering witch who killed people for their hearts. Or something of the like.

“Yes,” he hummed. “Promise. Always.”

“But I was beautiful,” she whined. Again, with the pitiful groans. 

He didn’t care – he simply did not care. She was dead and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it. Really, he might as well stake her then and there, or have John do it, better yet. It would all be a test… just to see how fragile the little doctor was.

“Beauty’s never more than a disguise, Lucy,” he cooed, wondering why he was still doing this. But the look in her eyes – infant-like, terrified – made him continue. “You’ve outgrown it.”

“I don’t want to! I don’t want to!” she sobbed more, falling into his arms and pressing the ashes of her skin into his suit.

“Lucy, listen,” he whispered, trying his best to stay level. But there was very little he could do in regard to his patience when something like this was on his floor, wiping its grim on him. She was pitiful, and not in a cute way. “Shh… Listen to me. Listen. Listen to me.”

Everything he said was cast to the wind, and so he shouted, “Listen!” She continued crying, now quietly, and he spoke over her. “You’re my finest bride yet. In 500 years, you were the only one who willingly opened up her veins… You knew what was happening.”

“No,” Lucy cried.

“You embraced it. You accepted it. Now you can live forever,” he offered, watching her face twist into even deeper horror.

“Oh, yeah?” she seethed. “Like this? Look at me!”

Through gritted teeth, he mumbled, “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, don’t you?” Lucy howled. 

“No-“

“Oh, well, I do mind!” she cried. She fell further down.

A pitiful thing that Dracula could no longer tolerate. He sat back, sitting against the wall, watching her soak herself in tears. Nothing would change for her, though. Nothing would bring back her beauty. And now, then, there was no use for her here. Surely, she was interesting and he had enjoyed his time with her, but now it was over.

“Lucy,” whispered John’s soft voice. He held out a hand to her. In his other, behind his back, was a stake. 

A courageous boy. Strikingly similar to Johnathon – his Johnny Blue-Eyes.

“Kiss me.”

Dracula wanted to scream.

“No, no, no,” Lucy whimpered. “You don’t- You don’t want to kiss me like this.”

The Count got up with a huff, stepping away from the situation but keeping a close eye on John. His every movement was intriguing. The way his body twitched with uncertainty, the way his piercing blue eyes remained on the decaying girl unwavering, the way he gripped the stake with white knuckles.

Nothing in Dr. Seward wanted to do this, but he was going to. Dracula could feel it.

“Lucy Westerna,” Dr. Seward murmured to her, “there has never been a day I didn’t want to kiss you. And there never will be.”

“Oh, Jack,” she said. Using his name again. The one that Dracula wanted to be the only one to use. “Oh, Jack.”

She pulled herself to her feet, hand pressed firmly in his, and they kissed. 

It was a passionate kiss. One that made it almost impossible for Dracula to restrain himself – even more so as he watched the girl trail her hand behind John… or Jack, as he should start referring to him as. The hand fell on his that held the stake. 

The kiss broke. She looked into his eyes like there was nothing left in the world.

“Do it,” she breathed. “Jack, do it. For me. Do it for me.”

Dracula could have done it in a second. But the way Jack looked at her – the way he held her gaze until finally, he reared back and shoved the stake into her chest… oh, he was a strong one. Even the way he held himself, waiting, as he watched the dust fall to the ground.

Lucy Westerna was gone, finally, and Jack Seward most certainly could be Dracula’s. 

Oh, but one last jab.

“She was my most promising experiment,” Dracula mumbled to Jack, who looked at him. “Took me 500 years to make a bride this good. Now look what you’ve done.”  
Dracula knew this was his fault. But he was testing the waters. Seeing just how fragile and strong Jack was.

And again, he surprised him.

“She was never yours,” Jack told him, and Dracula turned to yet again face him. The boy wiped his eyes, straightening his back. He sniffed. “Or mine. O-Or anyone’s.”  
How lovely, Dracula thought bitterly. He really does love her. 

“Well, I suppose she died well,” he growled. “That’s a rare quality – you can take it from me.”

“Quality or flavor?” Zoe put in. 

Dracula vaguely became aware of her dwindling existence on the other side of the room, but he smiled at her, noting her thought.

“Ah. Flavor. Very particular. In my experience, unique. She almost seemed… in love with death."


	2. Metathesiophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metathesiophobia - the fear of change
> 
> (warning: some non-con biting)

“That’s it,” Zoe breathed. Her eyes lit with interest and understanding, watching Dracula very carefully. “That’s… everything. And that’s why her.”

Dracula let out a snort, crossing his arms. He glanced Zoe over curiously, wondering what she understood. Maybe this would be important to him – it sounded like she’d figured something out about him, after all, and that was something he very much was curious about. However, he had questions, and he wanted them answered.

There was no time to talk, though, because Zoe continued, “Dracula, I drank your blood.”

In the corner, clearly still in recovery, Jack shuddered. Dracula paid little attention to it, instead leaning in to Zoe – or maybe Agatha, he wasn’t sure – as she spoke.

But now she didn’t talk. Now, she grasped the table and flung herself onto it. It was beyond Dracula just how she’d managed to do such a feat, being feeble and have cancer of all things, but she began to run across the table and she practically flung herself – 

… into the curtains.

Sunlight tore into the room, and, out of instinct more than anything, Dracula hurled himself to the ground so as to avoid the sun’s beams. He couldn’t feel it, so perhaps he’d managed, but he still seethed and hissed and writhed on the ground in hopes that perhaps she’d close the curtains if she knew how much pain he was in.

Except there was no pain, curiously enough. It was a slow realization, but gradually he assessed his burns. Or, the lack thereof. 

Nothing on him had changed. There was no effect from the sun, no pain, nothing. The sun – the clever thing in the sky – was doing nothing to him. Nothing at all.

Dracula breathed, feeling the sun on his skin and wondering why this was a new feeling. Why he’d left this beautiful thing behind 500 years ago. Why he’d been dumb enough to never once step out and consider the possibilities.

“It’s 93 million miles away,” said Agatha, very clearly, “it really isn’t going to hurt you.”

“I don’t understand,” murmured Dracula. Through his eyelashes, he glanced to Jack.

The boy was very tense. His entire body was rigid as he started at Dracula, his blue eyes very well glowing in the sun’s ray. Well, he was beautiful.

And he wasn’t Jonathon Harker. No, this boy was Jack Seward. There were many differences between the two, but a very important one would be that Dr. Jack Seward was the most lively thing in this room, and that was the best way for things to be.

“I have very few breaths left to explain, so don’t interrupt,” said Agatha.

Dracula grunted at her very own interruption, as Jack was now looking at her instead. He’d had a very small moment of those blue eyes. Here, she’d ruined it. Typical. 

However, the longer Dracula zoned out on what Agatha was saying, the more he focused on Jack’s expression. The more he noticed that the boy wasn’t listening to gain information. He was listening just to hear it. To listen. 

“You already knew this,” the Count mumbled to him, scoffing. “Didn’t you? You knew everything about me. When? When did you learn?”

Jack’s eyes slid back to Dracula. Slowly, nervously. There was a massive hesitation as the boy only fumbled for his words, eyes darting between Agatha and Dracula. 

The Count had listened a bit to Agatha. There were bits and pieces put together to formulate the idea that he – Dracula – did things purely because he didn’t possess courage. And, well, that made sense. He didn’t like the sound of it, but it made sense, and the only one that didn’t look shocked or interested in the knowledge was Dr. Seward, who still stood nervous in the corner.

“You knew?” Agatha whispered.

Dr. Seward still said nothing.

At this, Dracula snorted. He turned to Dr. Helsing, pushing himself to his feet. “Continue,” he told her. She was dying – perhaps she would get to the part about the doctor.

“Being in love with Lucy,” Agatha breathed. Her voice was getting soft and weary. Any second now, she’d be gone. Deceased right on his floor. “Because she was in love with death – she had the courage for the one thing you did not, and that was to die.”

He shifted uncomfortably, wordless.

“These – these rules of the vampire?” asked Agatha, motioning to the window. “Habits. Habits that became fetishes that became legends that even you came to believe. Count Dracula. Too afraid to die and too dead to live.”

“And Jack?” inquired Dracula. The new information was important, sure, but it was for later assessment. Now he just wanted to know about Jack before the woman died. He motioned to the boy, who straightened at the sound of his name on the vampire’s lips. “Why did you bring him?”

Dr. Helsing smiled dryly, easing herself into her seat. Surely, running across the table like it had been a marathon had not been the brightest idea. “He’s a parting gift,” she said.

“A what?” Dr. Seward spoke. Paranoia entered his gaze, but when Dracula looked at him, he switched it to indifference. “What did you say I was?”

“A parting gift,” Dr. Helsing repeated. Tiredly, she looked at him. “Dr. Jack Seward, you are the most caring, nurturing, _real_ person I know. With proper attention, I believe you can bring Dracula back into a real life. One based not on invalid legends, but one based on realness. One based on life.”

Jack took in a shuddery breath. There was only a second hesitation before he said, “I'm not going to do that.”

“You will,” Zoe said sadly, “because you will need him.”

“He’ll what?” Dracula barked out a laugh. This was becoming ridiculously interesting. Everything Zoe, or Agatha, or whoever it was now, he didn’t care, said was something new and completely fascinating. Why on earth would Jack Seward, a doctor, a _scientist,_ need a vampire? Surely, there was no reason Jack would willingly run experiments on Dracula – not after he’d done that to Lucy, not after he so clearly disliked him. 

“I’m sorry, Jack, but I believe this will be beneficial for the both of you,” Zoe continued. Her deadening eyes glanced between the two of them. “Jack, in your blood is a large amount of erythropoietin – it will produce too many red blood cells and soon it will be mandatory for Dracula to feed off of you. You will be too fatigued to drive to a hospital to get blood drawn. You may call an ambulance, but by the time they get here, I will be dead. By then, you will have two choices: kill me, as I will be a vampire, and see what happens when the police find a dead body on the ground or allow Dracula to feed from you. After killing me, of course.”

A shuddered breath escaped Jack. “Why’ve you done this?”

She continued, “After he feeds off of you, your body will begin producing a bit too much erythropoietin for you to function properly without blood drawn regularly. This will happen gradually and soon you will develop a condition called polycythemia. I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

The boy only swallowed in reply, but Dracula cleared his throat through a snicker. “Um, I’m not.”

Zoe glanced to him. “Polycythemia is a condition in which the diagnosed produces too much blood. Usually, they need a pint to be extracted a week. That will be enough to hold you over, Dracula,” she said, now looking at him. “And you will not drain him or kill him.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” Dracula whispered through a grin. 

It was unbelievable, really. Agatha – Zoe – Dr. Helsing entirely, she really was a clever woman. She’d thought through every aspect of this and it was beyond interesting.

“A vampire, did you say?” Jack added. His voice was just above a breath, still shaking from the information he’d gained. It was a bit disheartening, seeing him react like this.

“Ah, yes,” Dracula said. 

Before he could continue, Jack glared at him. “Please don’t talk.”

Well, Dracula thought, this might be difficult.

Dr. Helsing cleared her throat. “Dracula bit me. I drank his blood. No matter how it happens, I will be a vampire. And, like in Lucy’s case, my only method of a second death would be a stake through the chest. Are you prepared to do that, Jack?”

“Of course not,” he mouthed. “Dr. Helsing, why would you do this?”

It was almost painful to watch him learn about their new arrangement – one that was coming as quite a shock to Dracula himself as well, though he was much more interested – but he was sure this would work out. After all, Jack would end up needing Dracula.

The idea was stunning.

“Because, Jack,” she said to him, smiling gently. “You are too kind for this world. I’m afraid if you continue the way you are, you’ll be trampled by everything that sees you. Dracula, on the other hand… he’s too rough for this world. If he continues the way he does, he will be the one to trample everything he sees. As my parting gift, I give you to each other.”

Jack swallowed dryly, taking on a look of quiet disgust. “I don’t want him.”

Well, that felt like a stake to the heart.

“You’ll need him, Jack.”

“I’ll just extract my own blood,” Jack argued, but his voice trembled. He scoffed, shaking his head as tears dripped from his eyes. They weren’t just from the idea of needing the vampire, but also from the knowledge that his time with Dr. Helsing was fading. And this was going to be their last conversation. An argument. 

“I thought you’d say that,” replied the cancerous patient. She clicked her tongue, eyes now turned to Dracula. “But really, how long can he go without killing a person? If he isn’t offered fresh, live blood… how long will the Count go before he has to murder to survive?”

She smiled sadly towards Jack. “I know this is hard. But I trust both of you to grow from this experience.”

“He’s murdered people,” Jack argued. His voice rose just slightly, now sounding like a normal talking voice. Was this as loud as he got? “He-He turned Lucy into a vampire, Dr. Helsing, and he tried to kill you. What’s keeping him from killing me?”

“Perhaps he’d like to explain,” said the woman. “After I’m gone.” 

Dracula shifted, listening as a small whine ripped from her throat. No matter how hard she tried to stifle the knife of cancer, she couldn’t. “You’re in pain,” he noted.

“I’m equal to it.”

A tear fell from Jack’s eyes, landing on the ground. Dracula glanced over to him, wondering for only a second if he should comfort him. That, though, seemed like the worst idea out of all of them.

“Goodbye, Count Dracula,” said Zoe Van Helsing. Her eyes glittered in the fading sun. Death was on the rise in her body; the smell was growing stronger, now invading his senses like lightning. Usually, he enjoyed it. Now he was wondering how soon it would leave. “Goodbye, Jack Seward. It was an honor knowing both of you.”

There was something akin to pity or perhaps regret in Dracula’s body, though it lingered deeply under the skin. He only stared at her as she crumbled, slowly, until she was dead. Her last breath was like a puff of euphoria for both her and him, he could guess. Because dying was a relief in comparison to the cancer that had eaten her.

And now they were to wait.

The Count turned to Jack, opening his mouth to say something, but the look in the boy’s eyes made him silent immediately. Dracula knew pain and loss – he’d witnessed it, _felt it_ the day Jonathan Harker fell from his building. He’d seen it in the eyes of the woman who knew there was no returning from Dracula’s mansion. And he knew it when Lucy recognized with finality that she was going to die soon, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Jack had that same look. It was one where they knew what had happened, but there was just a lingering sense of denial – just a sliver. One that buried itself in the back of their head and whispered, ‘Yes, but what if?’ And solutions trilled and sung in their head until it silenced with a heartbeat.

Because Agatha, Zoe, Dr. Helsing was dead. And soon she would be a vampire. And Jack would have to kill her.

Not because the Count didn’t want to, or because he particularly cared who killed her, but because it had been her dying request.

That, along with the fact that Dracula feed off of Jack. 

Dracula stifled a grin, instead glancing back to the boy and crossing his arms. “Think you can kill her just like you did Lucy?” he asked.

The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Momentarily, it felt impossible to not grab him by his chin and drink his blood. The restraint necessary felt like a punch to the gut. But he managed and only peered curiously at the boy.

This, like most things, was a test.

Already, Jack was beginning to look a bit pale in the face. His eyes were becoming absent in gaze, flickering from the corpse in the chair to the window. It did offer a very nice view of the city, but that wasn’t the reason he was looking. Zoe’s death was too fast, and this was his denial. Maybe, Jack Seward was thinking, this wasn’t happening.

Trembling, the boy looked over to Dracula. Those blue eyes pierced him. “Maybe she’ll turn out like you.”

“I should hope not,” Dracula replied. 

Jack bit his lip, tears slipping out of his eyes and splattering to the floor. He swallowed, looking back to the woman. “A-Alive, I mean.”

Dracula clicked his tongue. “Dr. Helsing doesn’t want to be alive, Jack. She may very well turn out like me, but no matter how ‘alive’ she is after death… she won’t want to be it. You and I both know that very well.” He shrugged. “Our only option now is to heed her advice.”

Now the boy looked at him, but rather than the sorrow that had been there before, it was a bitter glare. Dracula stared right back at him. The sight of the boy so angry, filled with so much negative emotions now directed towards him, was startling.

Perhaps Dr. Seward sensed it because he calmed his gaze and took in a shaky breath. “I’m not going to kill her again. And I’m not going to stay here with you.”

That certainly was an alternative in Dr. Helsing’s little game: do none of her options. “Well, then I’ll have to kill her. And the ambulance will come and find the dead body on the ground and you and I will be charged for murder – Johnny, we’ve been over this. Come on, don’t make this difficult.”

“It’s John,” snapped the boy. His voice still was not very loud, and it was alarming for Dracula, how right Dr. Helsing had been. The world would trample him. It looked like he had something else to say, but he swallowed his words and grabbed his bag off the table. “Whatever. I’m going to leave. You can… t-take care of her.”

As he packed up his things, Dracula took in a small breath. One that wasn’t necessary for him, but it felt necessary for the situation. The doctor was being rather difficult. Of course, it probably should have been expected, considering the fact that he had no reason to like the vampire, but he didn’t have to be this difficult.

Well, Johnny had been this difficult, though, too. Even more so.

“I can’t let you leave, sorry," Dracula told him unapologetically. 

“Oh?” asked the boy. The tremble in his voice gave away the fact that he didn’t yet have a plan, but he wanted to sound like he did. He raised an eyebrow, gaze shifting to the floor between them. There, in the midst of Lucy’s still-hot ashes, was the stake he’d used to pierce her. 

After the information Dr. Helsing had disclosed, there were so many possibilities about Dracula’s life that he wanted to uncover. Could he really be in the sun – in the real beauty in the sky? Another myth was that a stake to the heart would kill him. And naturally, he wouldn’t mind uncovering that myth. Just to see if it was true, just to see if the eternity would end like that.

But not now. Not with Dr. Seward.

Surprisingly, the lanky boy was much quicker than him, and he was closer to the stake before Dracula could even consider approaching it. However, after Dracula took a single step towards it, the boy flinched so hard that he landed on his side on the ground, far away from the wooden stake, and he propped himself up on his elbows after turning on his back. Now there was fear in his eyes, and now he was looking at Dracula with the blue orbs.

Dracula scooped the stake up from the ground and held it far away from the boy. It didn’t matter that he was on the ground, trembling, a mess. It only mattered that the doctor knew taking Dracula out wasn’t an option now.

“Don’t make this difficult,” Dracula mumbled.

But he was also hoping the doctor would. Just for the element of surprise.

And, as with the entire rest of the day, Dracula was not disappointed. As the doctor dug into his bag to produce not anything helpful, but rather, a gun. 

It took a tad of restraint for Dracula to not burst out laughing. He only raised an eyebrow, tilting his head curiously at the foolish boy. “And what,” asked Dracula, “doctor, are you going to do with that?”

“I’m going to kill you,” breathed Jack. 

“How, Dr. Seward?” grumbled Dracula. He held the stake up in the air, dangled it around like he needed any more indication that this most likely was the only way of bringing him to death. “With what?”

Maybe Dracula had made a mistake in calling the boy intelligent. There was no way he didn’t know a gun wouldn’t kill a vampire. Not after he’d had to stake Lucy. No, the doctor must have been smarter than that. Otherwise, Dracula wouldn’t have literally smelled it in him.

Again – Dracula was losing count – he was surprised as the doctor fired the gun. 

It didn’t even sting like it had when the man on the boat had shot him. Then again, Dracula realized, that was probably because he hadn’t been shot.

Zoe had.

His eyes trailed down… down… down to find the dead woman unflinching in the chair. Except now, blood trailed slowly through her shirt from a gaping hole in her neck. The bullet had gone all the way through. A nice fact, then, was that the doctor had very good aim. 

A bad fact, too, was that the doctor had very good aim. 

Because the smell of blood was getting to Dracula’s senses. It didn’t matter how poisonous it was to him – he’d grown to exist beside it, after all. The tinge of death meant nothing. The fact that Zoe was already dead from cancer meant nothing.

She still had blood, and it was still seeping into his existence.

He wanted to drink.

Oh, the doctor was deliciously clever. He took the advantage and bolted to his feet, clambering until he’d reached the door. He was fatigued, though. Out of the corner of Dracula’s eyes, he could see the doctor fumbling with the lock. Better yet, he could see him fumbling with the door handle itself.

“You can’t leave, Dr. Seward,” growled Dracula. His eyes didn't leave the bloody corpse, but he listened to the boy.

Drinking from Dr. Helsing would be the most idiot decision of his life. So he would have to wait until the desire subsided… or he could drink from the doctor.

“Just come here.”

A dazed ‘no’ escaped Jack. Dracula heard him slide down the door, and he looked to find the doctor holding his head in his hands. His elbows were propped onto his knees. There were no tears. No silent sobbing, either. The boy only sat there.

Dracula did, too. He licked his lips, eyes dancing to Dr. Helsing before darting back to the boy. It was difficult to resist drinking from her, but he reminded himself of four things that restrained him: she had cancer, she was dead, she had Agatha inside of her, and Jack Seward needed him.

The last one pried him to his feet. 

Mind slightly hazy, he walked to the boy, who lifted his head out of his hands and glanced up to Dracula with absent eyes. 

Instantly, Jack flinched back, pressing his back further into the door. “Don’t touch me,” he breathed.

Dracula knelt in front of him. He took in the sight of the boy’s paranoid blue eyes staring, finally, right into Dracula’s. Granted, it wasn’t exactly the look he wanted. In truth, he was entirely jealous of the trusting gaze he’d given Zoe, or the amorous one he’d given Lucy. The one that said, ‘I love you despite.’ It had been beautiful.

How he wanted it. 

Lucy had never given it to him – the look, that was. It was always a look of, ‘I love you because.’ Lucy hadn’t seen a man in Dracula; she’d simply seen a vampire. One that gave her what she desired, one that was only a means to an end.

The look Jack had given her, the ‘I love you despite’ look. That had meant ‘I love you despite the problems you believe you have.’ It had meant he saw Lucy as a woman, as a lady, as his love. Not as a vampire. 

The look the Count was being given now said, ‘I hate you because.’ 

There was no getting around the fact that Dr. Seward wouldn’t willingly open his veins to Dracula the way Lucy had. Not yet, at least. It would have to do.

“Calm down,” Dracula said.

The boy didn’t listen. Rather, he threw his hands out to push the vampire away. But not only was he fatigued, and not only was Dracula very strong, but he was also seemingly weak in general. It took little to no effort for the Count to pin John’s wrists to the door above him.

Then he leaned over the boy, taking in his scent. Bleach. Chlorine. Fear. “Dr. Seward,” he repeated into the boy’s ears, “unfortunately, you can’t stop me.”

At this, the boy stilled his weak protests – stopped his wriggling and squirming beneath the Count. He didn’t speak, and rather set his head back against the door to look up at the taller man. They shared a brief moment of eye contact. 

A moment that the Count soaked in. A moment that he knew he would replay in his mind over and over again. Not because Jack had a look of trust or love, but because Jack was truly only looking at him with his Johnny Blue-Eyes. There was nothing else for the doctor to look at. Nothing else he wanted to look at.

It was Dr. John Seward looking at Count Dracula.

He leaned down and sunk his teeth into the boy’s neck, hands tightening around the boy’s thin wrists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep me up to date about how you feel about my shenanigans. And if you have any suggestions for edits I should make, please let me know. I'd love to hear your feedback.  
> Thanks for reading and please have a really, really great day/night. <3 Ily


	3. Hemophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hemophobia - the fear of blood

Jack Seward wanted to cry and scream as Dracula bit into his neck. He wanted to shove the vampire away and stake him, or just squirm until the vampire was forced to let go. However, he knew that would only result in a bigger, gaping hole in his neck, and he would bleed out and die.

Maybe that was a better alternative to this, though. Because the last thing he wanted to do was give Dracula what he wanted.

Sure, he loved Dr. Helsing. She was the only person who’d been there for him, aside from Lucy, when the ‘Reckoning’ happened. That’s what he called it, at least. Lucy called it the ‘Great Fuckening.’ She was the only one who joked about it with him. Everyone else just sighed apologetically and asked if he needed anything.

It had been a big deal, sure, but it wasn’t what defined him. That sort of reaction made it feel like the Reckoning was the only thing people saw in him. 

Anyway, Dr. Helsing had given him a place to stay after it had happened. She’d opened her doors to him and let him go with her to work when he was too scared to be alone. That was how he got into medical science, and soon began his career. Dr. Helsing had practically created the man Jack was today. There was nothing he wasn’t grateful for that she’d done.

Other than this. Other than her addiction to Dracula.

Since they’d broken the vampire out of the coffin, Dr. Helsing had flung herself into her work about him. She became less of a friend and more of a distant acquaintance. Usually, they met for Saturday morning coffee, but that hadn’t happened since Dracula. She was the one that was supposed to bring them different treats, and she was the one that barged through the doors every other day with some terrific discovery, but she’d stayed locked in her lab since Dracula.

The change didn’t mean much to Jack at first. He figured it made sense, considering she’d been plagued by her great-great-aunt her entire life. It only made sense that she would do everything in her power to make sense of it all. She was a scientist, as it was. It was impossible to push down that need to discover or understand.

But then Lucy got proposed to, and then she got sick, and then she died. And that was inexcusable for Jack Seward. No, this man, this vampire, less a man, had taken away everything he cared about. 

It didn’t matter to him that Dr. Helsing had been working on a cure for herself before Dracula. It didn’t matter to him that Lucy was the sole reason, along with Dr. Helsing, that Jack was alive. No, the vampire cared about very little, and what he did care about was only in himself. 

It disgusted Jack so badly. He wanted to vomit.

His eyes fluttered open. He was aware of the fact that he’d been in a dream. The lucid ones that Dr. Helsing talked about the first Dracula tried to drink from her. That’s where he’d been – thinking about other things. Not about the fact that the vampire was drinking from his neck.

Firstly, his reaction was to shove his knee in between the vampire’s legs.

An inhumane hiss escaped the creature as he fell back, holding the bit of him Jack had kicked. Vaguely, Jack knew he was bleeding. There was blood all down his torso, covering his neck, and it was on Dracula’s mouth. A messy creature, along with a disgusting one.

Dazed – by blood loss or his condition, Jack wasn’t sure – he stumbled forward to grab the stake Dracula had dropped before pinning him to the door. The floor dipped underneath his feet and the walls looked as though they were water touched by raindrops. It became difficult to focus on absolutely anything, though he managed to curl his fingers around it and pull it to his chest amidst the chaos.

Dracula had pulled himself to his feet at this point, narrowing his eyes at Jack. It sent chills down his spine, but he tried to hold his ground. His shoes slid in a puddle of something as he turned to better face the vampire. A glance down told him it was a puddle of his own blood, and he put a shaky hand against the wound on his neck.  
“John,” Dracula said through his teeth, “this doesn’t have to be difficult.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Jack replied. “Just let me leave, Dracula. I don’t want to stay here.”

The vampire seemed to think about it for a second, consideration and thought overcoming his features before he shook his head. “No. Now come here before you bleed to death.” 

He took a step towards the doctor, but Jack outstretched his hand with the stake. It was a threat. He knew, deep down, that if it really did come to Jack having to stake Dracula, he wouldn’t be able to do it. There was no way he could kill someone so alive. Lucy had been another story – she’d wanted it. Needed it, even. But Dracula? 

“Are you really going to stake me, Dr. Seward?” Dracula asked, as if reading his mind. 

Another step forward and Jack took a step back. 

It wasn’t often that Jack found people with longer legs than him, and thus it made it much easier to outrun absolutely anything, but Dracula was taller than him somehow, and managed to make his steps count far more than Jack’s. 

“Don’t come any closer,” the doctor threatened. He held up the stake. “I will. I will do it.”

Dracula scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, like you said you would with Dr. Helsing?”

“I have many more reasons to do it to you than her.”

“Please,” Dracula growled, piercing Jack with a look of pure focus. One that said he was only interested in Jack now – that was, to kill him most likely. 

If the vampire came any closer, Jack would die. So he had to fight back.

But how? 

Jack took in a sharp breath but tried to give away no other emotions. Terror was spilling down his spine, sending fireworks into his brain. It only got worse as Dracula took another step towards him, and now Jack’s back was to the door again. But this time, he had a stake. If he got any closer…

And he did. He took two more long steps until he was within breath's distance from Jack. He wrapped his own hands around Jack's holding the stake and positioning it directly at his own heart. Jack’s hands trembled as he held the stake so close to nearly killing the vampire, eyes cast down to the wooden stick.

This was bad. Dracula was supposed to just let him go, not… be so brave as to openly accept death. Except that wasn’t what the vampire was doing, was it? No, they’d known that Dracula’s fear was death. The man wouldn’t so openly accept it. 

No, he knew Jack couldn’t do it. And he was mocking him for it.

“Stop,” Jack whispered, biting his lip. 

“Look at me, Dr. Seward,” instructed Dracula.

Why? Did Dracula want to look him in the eyes while he killed Jack? Was that just how he enjoyed killing his victims? By staring right into their eyes as he drained them of blood?

Well, anatomically, that wouldn’t really work.

Either way, Jack refused to give Dracula the satisfaction of watching him bleed out. He kept his eyes on the stake, gripping tightly in one knuckle. His other was still gripping his neck, trying to fruitlessly stop the blood that was now soaking all the way through his shirt and jacket.

“Dr. Seward,” Dracula warned. 

His voice was deep and made Jack want to curl up and stop existing, then. But he quietly, slowly, raised his eyes to look into Dracula’s eyes. Deep brown ones that spoke of some unsaid joke as they searched Jack’s own eyes.

The stare was too intense. The look of one murderer to another, Jack assumed. The thought caused him to look back at the stake between them.

Except then Dracula grabbed his chin in his free hand. This grip was much more gentle than the one beforehand. Rather than gripping his cheeks in an iron grip with his nails digging into his skin, Dracula gently held Jack’s chin between his thumb and index finger, angling his head up just enough that Jack could only look at Dracula’s face.

They met eyes again. This time, Jack couldn’t look away.

“Eye contact doesn’t seem to be a strong suit for you, Dr. Seward,” Dracula noted under his breath. His eyes danced around Jack’s face, seeming to soak in every inch of him.  
Jack felt as though he was under a microscope. It seemed as though his every pore was being inspected, considered, graded, even. There was no getting away from the peering pry of Dracula’s eyes. 

Once again, Jack glanced instead to Dracula’s lips. The only place he could bring himself to look. Not because he cared where he was looking at, per se, but because it was the furthest place from Dracula’s eyes that his own would fall.

“You’re going to be living with me, Dr. Seward. And this?” Dracula asked, tilting Jack’s chin up just a bit more until now the only place Jack truly could look was the vampire’s eyes. “This eye contact problem you’ve got… it needs to be fixed.”

Jack clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to spit in Dracula’s face. Rather, he tried to swallow down sand. His entire throat was dry, his mouth, even, his tongue. 

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Jack mouthed.

A pause from the vampire. And then he let out a humorless breath that resembled a chuckle.

“I thought I knew, Dr. Seward. I really did.” 

Dracula’s other hand, the one gripping the stake between them, let go every so slowly. That left Jack holding it by himself in an iron-tight grip that felt like it would break his fingers soon if he kept it up. But he couldn’t let it go. It was the only thing separating him from Dracula.

The hand then trailed up to Jack’s cheek. Gently, as if Jack was made of porcelain, Dracula brushed his thumb under Jack’s right eye. 

The contact was something new for Jack. It shouldn’t have been – not when Dr. Helsing sometimes stroked his arm with a motherly touch, not when Lucy had done so much more than just touch him… but this sort of contact?

Something about it made Jack shudder. And then all at once, he relaxed. The stake fell from his hand and he collapsed against the door until Dracula was the only thing holding him up with one hand curled around his waist, pressing the two together.

“Dr. Seward,” Dracula whispered. “I think you’re about to pass out.”

Ah.

It wasn’t relaxation.

It was blood loss and fatigue. 

“Me, too,” Jack mumbled.

The edges of his vision flickered until they were black, and the only thing he could see was Dracula. An oddly kind grin was spread across the vampire’s face. Jack felt himself being lifted up, and then the vampire spoke.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Seward. I’ll take care of you.”

And if the panic from that sentence wasn’t enough to make Jack pass out, the blood loss was.

The bed he woke up in wasn’t his because it smelled like anything but bleach. The curtains were closed, too, which was also something he wasn’t used to. However, a shred of light peaked through them and managed to shine right into his left eye.

Jack opened both of his eyes very slowly and took in a breath. No, this most certainly was not his bed. He began to sit up, only to be halted by a voice.

“Wait, Dr. Seward,” said the English voice. “Your eyes are brilliant in the sunlight.”

Instantly, Jack closed his eyes. 

“Oh, you’ve ruined it.”

There became a mantra in his head instantly, that repeated on and on, ‘This is not where I am. I am dreaming at home. Dracula is not sitting across from me.’ It wasn’t true, though. No matter how many times he repeated it to himself, it wasn’t true. And when he opened his eyes again, Dracula was standing at the edge of the bed.

It felt mandatory to do a full-body check. If he was even still alive, that was. There was no telling what Dracula had done to him while he was asleep. Maybe he’d killed him. Was Jack dead? Was this what it felt like to be dead? Light-headed, exhausted, really… really warm?

That was probably because Jack wasn’t in his normal clothes. Rather, a deep black sweater hung off of him, as well as sweatpants that seemed to swallow him under the covers.   
And while he was grateful for the change of clothes – he vaguely remembered his old ones being coated in blood – he also realized that this meant Dracula would have had to see him…

“What did you do to me?” Jack whispered, glancing down at himself. A tremulous hand reached up to caress his own neck where he remembered Dracula biting him. Surely enough, there was a scar. It was about two inches long and ran down the side of his neck elegantly and almost carefully in a somewhat crooked line. 

“What do you take me for, Dr. Seward?” asked Dracula. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

“Where are my clothes?” was Jack’s next question. 

“I'll answer all your questions, hush,” Dracula mumbled. “I'll give you yesterday's schedule, hm? You fell asleep. Passed out, more like, from blood loss. Your clothes were covered in the blood. I took them off of you so as not to bloody my bed, because we all know it's impossible to get out of sheets. Well, I may have… well, I was hungry.” The vampire shrugged. “So I didn’t necessarily wash your clothes.”

Jack kept his eyes to the window as he spoke. “You… drank the blood from my shirt?” He licked his lips. “I was passed out. You could’ve easily-“

“I ask again, Dr. Seward, just what do you take me for?”

There was a different sense of confidence that overcame Jack as he met Dracula’s gaze and said, “Tell me the moral line between a murderer and a rapist, then.”

At this, the vampire went utterly silent. Then, very quietly, he replied, “I suppose you could ask yourself the same question, couldn’t you, doctor?”

Lucy.

Right.

And Dr. Helsing.

Right.

“What about Dr. Helsing? I-Is she…” 

“Back?” Dracula finished for him. “No. They take a while, Dr. Seward. Patience is the virtue of the vampire.”

“Jonathan Harker took a minute to come back,” Jack replied.

And then he regretted it, because Dracula was beside him instantly, a hand enveloping his throat and pushing him back into the bed. Jack grunted, gripping the sheets tightly to keep himself centered. 

“You said his name,” Dracula mused. He didn’t look particularly angry. It only looked like he’d experienced a flash of emotions that he perhaps hadn’t experienced in too long, and now that they had floated to the surface like a rotten egg, he was flooded. “How do you know how long he took?”

Jack had an answer. It was etched into his soul with black Sharpie, scribbled all over his brain and heart. He didn’t want it there, but it definitely was. 

“Tell me,” hissed Dracula. His grip tightened around Jack’s throat, and the boy gripped at the vampire’s hand in an earnest and fruitless attempt at getting him to stop. “No one was there 123 years ago. Not even Agatha.”

“Please stop,” whispered Jack. It was getting difficult to breathe, and if he had to guess, this was the last thing his body needed after nearly bleeding out. 

Something must have clicked in the vampire at Jack’s weak pleads because he eased up before letting go entirely. They shared only a moment of uncomfortable eye contact before Dracula, rather melodramatically, turned around. 

An awkward spell of silence followed in which Jack sat up and rubbed at his throat and Dracula began to pace back and forth, avoiding the sliver of sunlight that peeked from between the curtains. 

Although they’d established that was pointless. He was, in fact, only a coward.

The idea that the vampire in front of him was a coward was beyond the doctor, but it made sense in the grand scheme of things.

“Dr. Seward, please tell me how you know about Jonathan Harker,” said Dracula. Strained patience laced his voice. When he turned to face Jack, anger and curiosity were clear behind his eyes. It made sense, of course, but Jack was terrified to know that he’d brought rage to the vampire.

After all, he was at his mercy. Jack had nothing but blood, and the vampire had teeth, strength, and some unholy drive that kept him alive for 500 years. 

Jack prolonged the silence until Dracula scoffed, shaking his head. “Mortals. Humans, even. So touchy with their secrets. Here, let me share one.” The vampire approached the bed. Rage was in his eyes, but his face was pure calm. He sat on the edge of the bed, too close to Jack. 

Dracula continued, “I was in love with Jonathan Harker.”

One of the vampire’s hands crept up to Jack’s face again, like it had before he passed out, and stroked under his eye with his thumb. The intimate movement made Jack’s stomach lurch. He wasn’t dizzy or fatigued from blood loss now, and he was entirely conscious and present enough to feel and understand the action. What it meant for Dracula, at least.

“Dare I say, he was the first man I loved. Was, being the main word. There was a sense of heroism about him... of righteous feelings, whatever. And, now trust me, I don't usually fall for my prey. That's a petty thing to do because the lion never falls for the gazelle, does he? But I did. Except it didn't work out because, well, I killed him anyway. And then I was sad for perhaps... a minute." The vampire stopped for a second and trailed his hand down to Jack's chin, gripping it. He forced the boy to look at him again. This time, Jack tried very hard to not look away. Just to get him to continue. "Johnny Blue-Eyes came back. I was overjoyed - and bloody proud, too, because they never come back so lively as he did. I told him to stay with me, be my bride... I'm sure you know he said no to me. Tried to kill himself, then. Twice. 

"It wasn't until I offered to kill him for a third time that we really saw each other again. At that point, after all the avoidance and the miscommunications... It's fair to say we were in a strange relationship. One not definable by words. Or, well, he hated me. Actually. So I killed him. Really, for good, which is why I'm curious as to how you know it was a minute. Agatha certainly didn't. Mina didn't. Why, Jonathan himself didn't even."

The vampire tapped Jack’s nose before leaning back. “So, until you can tell me just what you know about our beloved Jonathan, I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep you bed-ridden.”

Jack scoffed. He pulled the covers off himself to get up, to prove the vampire wrong, only to discover a lengthy chain spanning from his left ankle to the edge of the bed. It encompassed his thin ankle not well enough, but there was padding between the skin and the metal that made up for it. 

“You were going to keep me here either way,” Jack murmured.

“Quite right.”

There were many questions Jack had. His time was running out to ask them, though, because the vampire was heading for the door. So he threw one out without considering if he wanted the answer or not. “Why me, then?” he asked. 

The vampire turned halfway, a look of disinterested inquisition on his face. “Why you what, Dr. Seward?”

“Why… why do you care about me if you... if you know Jonathan hates you and you stopped caring about him that way?" Jack cleared his throat, sitting up a bit. "You should want to kill me. Why haven't you?"

The vampire clicked his tongue. “That’s a very good question,” he replied. “But there's something about you, Jackie Seward, that is entirely separate and different from Jonathan. And that is the only thing I like about you. Except, of course, your eyes. Those were a great toss in the gene pool."

Jackie. Dracula knew he wasn’t allowed to use Jack, so he’d developed his own nickname. Clever and also… petty. 

“They're a different shade,” Jack uttered. The words spilled from his throat like pebbles. "Lighter."

Again, the vampire stopped. He turned and glanced to the boy, looking him up and down. A sly grin came over his lips when their eyes met again. “I'd noticed."

Jack swallowed dryly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm high as fuck have a great day


	4. Claustrophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claustrophobia - the fear of small or confined spaces

Jack Seward stared at the bracelet around his ankle and wondered briefly what it would be like if he could move things with his mind. God knew he didn’t have the strength to pry it off himself with his bare hands, so if he was telekinetic, for example, he would be able to get out. Then he’d jump out the window or something. Whatever it took to get away from the vampire who no doubt had plans to kill him in the very end.

Cradling his head in his hands, he closed his eyes and thought of himself elsewhere. Jack thought a lot. Too much, Dr. Helsing would say, for his own good. His thoughts wandered to places that never made sense – Dr. Helsing also said it was normal for these sort of things to happen to people in his situation.

He didn’t like how often he thought. Naturally, his thoughts spiraled and spiraled until it brought him back to square one.

Thankfully, his very short train of thought was interrupted by the sound of his cellphone ringing. He heard it from the living room, where Dracula was, and he lifted his head to try and figure out if the vampire was going to answer it or not.

The ringing stopped. Silence, as far as Jack could hear. And then, “Jack can’t come to the phone. Call again and I’ll make sure you don’t have the fingers to type in his number. Have a lovely day.”

And then more silence. Faintly, he could hear the vampire rummaging through his bag. The familiar click of the clip against metal, and then complete silence.

The silence was deafening. This time Jack didn’t delve into his thoughts. Rather, they came to him. It was a familiar feeling at this point – his shirt would begin to seep with red, the sides of his vision would go blurry before disappearing entirely, and he stopped being able to feel himself.

The first time this happened – the Box, he called it – he thought he was dead. He screamed until his throat was dry and felt like it had been torn to ribbons, and then he tried to scream some more. But no matter what he did, he was locked in the box, and he wasn’t sure he was existing.

Dr. Helsing said this was PTSD of the Reckoning, but Jack knew better.

Sometimes, in the Box, Jack could see a light at the end if he looked long enough. It was a dim light that looked shrouded by glass, or like he was looking at it through a kaleidoscope because it was distorted and there was always a tiny figure that seemed to endlessly approach him. Sometimes he could swear the tiny thing screamed or clawed at him and one time he felt it bite into his leg. But then everything was gone.

Today, the tiny figure was at the end of the tunnel.

Jack had gotten good at ignoring it. Too good. One time he had a hallucination that was entirely too vivid, but Dr. Helsing said she didn’t even notice he was having one.

Now, it wasn’t so easy. Knowing he was somewhere he shouldn’t be, somewhere he didn’t want to be, with someone who could choose to kill him at any time, made having no vision even more terrifying. And seeing the slowly approaching small figure that looked to be crawling towards him made breathing difficult.

This time it got so close to him so that he could feel its little breaths against his exposed ankle. He squirmed, trying desperately to curl into himself, to draw his legs into his chest and stop experiencing the little bits of the world. But the more he moved, the more he could feel the wood of the Box against his back, and it made it worse.

Jack Seward felt bile rise in his throat when he heard Dracula’s quickly-paced shoes click against the floor, and then the door opened. Jack only knew because he heard it swing open and hit the wall.

“Dr. Seward?” asked the vampire. His voice was faint. It very well sounded like he was outside of the Box, which only made the hallucination worse.

When the Box first started appearing, Dr. Helsing had suggested putting his arms in front of his face in order to trick his brain into thinking it should be dark anyway. Now, Jack did just that, taking in as slow and steady breaths as he could manage. Except they came out too fast, too spastic, and maybe he would die of hyperventilation, and then Dracula would be so mad because he wouldn’t be able to stare into Jack’s eyes as he killed him, and –

“Jackie,” said the vampire more firmly. He was closer now.

A whine came from Jack. It ripped from his throat like a sob, and he held his arms more tightly against his eyes.

He was supposed to be in darkness. This was normal. It would pass. All he had to do was uncover his eyes.

However, the second he did, he saw the figure. Now it was against his leg, and it bared fangs – a child, baring _fangs_ , and then it went to bite into Jack’s leg. He felt the heavy breath directly on his skin –

Pressure was applied to Jack’s waist instead. His gaze glanced absently around to find the source, but everything was still black. Until Dracula spoke again. Softly now, with a gentle tone and his hands applied pressure to the sides of Jack’s head – where he knew a pillow should be.

It let him know there was a pillow there.

“Jack,” whispered the vampire. “Look at me.”

“I can’t see you,” Jack whined. For the first time in their short knowledge of each other, Jack was terrified of the fact that he couldn’t see the vampire. He knew the other was there, but he couldn’t see him. He felt vulnerable. He felt exposed.

He felt lonely.

“Jack Seward,” murmured the vampire. His voice was now so close to Jack. He could feel Dracula’s breath whisper against his skin. “I want you to look at me.”

And then he did.

The Box dissolved around him. Jack was brought back to the present. He was brought back to the moment where he was cuffed to Dracula’s bed, and now he could see the vampire was sitting on his lap, straddling him, hunched over him with his hands on either side of Jack’s pillow, staring down at him and searching his eyes like he always did.

When Jack came to, a genuine smile crossed the vampire’s lips as he leaned back. “There we are. Good boy.”

Jack sucked in a shaky breath. The next set of instructions Dr. Helsing gave was to assess his body and relax it as he did. It was a sort of meditation that would put him back in the moment of now without continuing his distress.

He set his head back against the pillow, both distancing himself from Dracula and relaxing his neck and head. And then he allowed the rest of himself to relax, except the part of him that was close to Dracula, and that was most of him.

Jack remained very tense.

“I know where you were, Dr. Seward,” cooed Dracula. His voice remained soft and calm as his right hand trailed down Jack’s chest. “I’m so curious to know why or how you got there, but… those questions will be answered.”

The boy looked up to the vampire, holding his breath. Was Dracula going to torture the answer out of him? Was that the plan?

Dracula’s other hand cupped the left side of Jack’s face. “How did it feel to kill Lucy Westenra, Jackie?”

The question was unexpected and felt like a punch to the gut. With the vampire still straddling him, it became harder to breathe or think, but for some reason, the hands touching him were centering. Jack managed to shake his head.

The vampire continued. “Did it feel good knowing you were the one with the power to alter the way her life went next? Whether it continued or stopped? Did you like that feeling of watching the life drain from her eyes like a dying light?”

Jack squirmed under the vampire, who remained unmoving.

“I like that feeling, Jack. It’s why it isn’t difficult for me to take the life of so many young, innocent people. Like Lucy, for example. It was so easy taking her life the first time and I imagined it would have been even easier the second. Was it, Jack?”

Again, he said nothing.

The Count continued, “Listen, I… hate to do this to you, but just think about it. Picture me… killing someone. How easy does that look? Tell me.”

Jack bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He knew where this was going, so he whispered, “Are you going to kill me?”

The thought wasn’t uninviting.

“What?” asked the vampire. He sounded like someone just asked if he enjoyed shagging a pig. “No. No, Jack, goodness no. You… I will not kill you, Dr. Seward. You have my word.”

A dry swallow seeped down Jack’s throat. “Who are you going to kill, then?”

At this, the vampire cracked a grin. The hand on Jack’s cheek left, diving into Dracula’s shirt pocket and pulling out Jack’s phone. He held it between the two of them with a contemplative look over his features, examining it.

“Do you know who called you? A boy named, ah… Zed? No, Zeke?”

“Zev,” Jack breathed.

The vampire smiled brightly. “Yes! Him. He called you asking for, and correct me if this doesn’t sound like something he’d say, a ‘day drink at yours so the two of us can talk about our feelings with Lucy, preferably without our clothes on’. Does that sound like something he’d say?”

It took a great bit of effort to not smile, but it also took too much effort to have the right mind in him to not try to grab his phone.

A trembling hand shot out, reaching for his phone, but the vampire grabbed his wrist without much warning and slammed it into the pillow behind Jack. Now, the vampire sat up further. He dropped the phone on the ground – Jack grimaced as he heard it crack – and used his now free hand to grab Jack’s other wrist.

Now able to feel Dracula’s presence much too closely, Jack closed his eyes and braced himself for what was to come.

“Come on, Jack,” pried the vampire. “I know we’ve talked about this. Eye contact.”

“Stop,” Jack choked out. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to go home and take three long, hot showers, and douse his clothes in bleach, and he wanted to go back to work like nothing ever happened. And he wanted to sleep and not think about Lucy or Dr. Helsing or the vampire that was now invading his every sense.

“Jack,” whispered the vampire. “This simply isn’t going to work very well if you can’t look me in the eyes.”

“Please stop,” Jack pleaded.

Dracula’s fingernails bit into Jack’s wrists. “Dr. Seward,” his voice was a warning. “I’m trying very hard to be patient – and it’s a little hard, considering I’ve had 500 years to be patient – but you’re making this difficult. It doesn’t have to be. Just look at me.”

Hesitantly, unwillingly, Jack did. The vampire was once again peering at everything Jack was. Staring deeper than the skin, even, and to Jack’s soul.

The vampire’s features relaxed, as did his grip on the boy’s wrists. He let out a huff of satisfaction, leaning back. “Now, let me tell you your situation, hm? You’re stuck here. In my room, with a bed, and food, and water – whatever you might need. However, what you won’t have is a phone. We can’t have people wondering where you are, can we? No. So, that’s gone. But, tell you what, Jackie. The more information you give me about your relationship with Jonathan Harker, the more information I’ll give you on the healthy wellbeing of one Zev. How does that sound?”

Jack shifted a little, having to consciously remind himself to maintain eye contact with the vampire. It seemed to be something that got Dracula to perform less physical contact and more of just prying eyes.

“Healthy?” Jack managed.

“Well, yes,” mused Dracula. “If you tell me information, I’ll tell you how healthy your friend Zev is. If you don’t… I’ll tell you how healthy he isn’t.”

It didn’t take long for Jack to figure out what the vampire was implying.

“You’re going to start killing him if I don’t talk,” he deduced.

“Clever boy,” Dracula cooed. He tilted his head, looking fondly onto Jack, before clicking his tongue and getting off of him very swiftly. “We’ll start tomorrow. However, I do have a… prompt for you today. Something that might initiate a train of thought, if you will.”

The vampire paused at the window. Jack assumed that now that he knew he wasn’t going to die in the sun, he was taking full advantage of it.

“You brought stakes to our meeting,” Dracula began. He glanced back at Jack, going quiet for a second. Then he added, and if it could be in parenthesis, Jack would do it, “Have I told you your eyes look lovely in the light? Without it, too, but…” The vampire clicked his tongue, shaking his head, a smiling playing on his lips. “You’re just unfairly attractive.”

A compliment that Jack didn’t expect would make butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“Anyway, you brought stakes here. Why?”

Jack licked his lips, sitting up further now that the Count was off him. “S-Safety?” he asked.

“No,” Dracula said very abruptly. He turned, a clever grin on his lips. “And do you know why I know you didn’t bring them for safety? I’ll tell you. You, Jack Seward, came here with the knowledge that you would give your life to me for Dr. Helsing. I could sense that in you – I knew it. You also knew that Dr. Helsing’s blood was poisonous to me. Did you not?”

In reply, Jack only swallowed dryly.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” the vampire continued. “You brought those stakes, not out of self-defense, but because you had the intention to kill me. You had no reason to bring them otherwise. Am I right?”

Well. 500 years of experience certainly did work out in his favor.

After a long period of silence in which Dracula on gazed at Jack, and Jack only looked out the window, the doctor finally whispered, “Yes.”

Dracula scoffed, approaching the bed. Out of instinct, Jack looked down to his hands, but the vampire jerked his chin up so that Jack could only look into his eyes. “Why did you come here to kill me, Jack? Revenge? No, but coming here was Dr. Helsing’s idea. So this want to kill me must have come before Lucy, before I did anything to hurt you, before…”

A pause. And then, “Before I even came out of my coffin. Such as… when I killed Jonathan Harker.”

Jack felt like he had to swallow sandpaper in order to get anything down. His mouth must have had a suction in it and had drained all of his saliva out because now it was completely dry. He didn’t know what to think, either. The suction had sucked out his thoughts, too.

All he could do was look at the vampire, silently, and then he whispered, “I can’t tell you.”

Silence. Dracula only looked down at the doctor, holding his chin in his hand, until he flashed a smile and let go. “That’s fine, Dr. Seward. That’s fine. Rest assured, I do have enough information to know your situation. But I want you to tell me. I want to hear it from your lips. Until you can do that…”

The vampire shrugged, turning and heading for the door. “I’ll keep you updated on Zev.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's a bit shorter than the others.   
> Keep me updated on ur feelings.  
> Thanks.


	5. Monophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monophobia - the fear of being alone

The sunlight felt like a warm bath. Dracula tilted his head back, closing his eyes and experiencing what the sun felt like, really, for the first time in 123 years. He soaked it in like a sponge, absorbing it into every pore of his skin.

There would be nothing better than this but having Jack Seward beside him. He clicked his tongue in contemplation, running a hand over his face.

The boy was frustrating, that was for sure. But not in the way that was actually frustrating. It more like the boy was tricky and clever and one step ahead of the vampire even though the two had hardly done anything for him to be clever about. Still, it felt like Jack Seward knew more about everything than Dracula could.

In a sense, he did. Which was equally frustrating, but this time not in a good way.

He had made a promise to the boy, though. Zev would get what was coming to him – not because he’d done anything wrong, other than call asking to shag Jack, but because Jack simply wouldn’t give up the information. And naturally, he had to know that Dracula was a man of his word.

It wasn’t difficult to find Zev. Dracula need only check the gay clubs in the area – and there were only three – before finding the white-haired boy whom he’d seen at Lucy’s funeral. The boy stood at the bar, grinning at another man from ear to ear, looking like he owned the place.

The music was loud. It pulsated in Dracula’s ears like a heartbeat, but he tried his best to zone it out as he slid into the seat beside Zev. He didn’t glance at the boy, not yet, and turned down a drink from the bartender.

Then he shifted his elbow just enough so that he knocked over Zev’s drink, spilling it all along the counter.

As soon as the liquid touched the boy’s shirt, he flinched and turned around, blue eyes wide and curious as he looked to the source. “Oh, bloody Hell,” he spat.

“I’m so sorry,” Dracula said, trying to speak over the music. He cast an apologetic grin to Zev, who didn’t waste a glance on him and only began to wipe up the mess with a rag the bartender gave him.

Zev looked at him once the drink was cleaned up and raised an eyebrow. “Are you… D?”

Had that been what Lucy had called him? Silly, stupid girl. He licked his lips. “How in the world could you tell?”

“Oh, come on,” Zev scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like Lucy kept you _that_ secret.” A smile played on his lips as he spoke, but it faded when he mentioned Lucy. Petty mortals, mourning over something they couldn’t get back. Death, for someone like Lucy Westenra, was forever. Now, at least. Thanks to Jack Seward.

Speaking of whom.

“How about I buy you a drink?” Dracula offered. “To make up for the one I’ve so clumsily spilled.”

“I’m… I’m alright,” Zev murmured, voice barely audible over the music now. He combed a hand through his very nicely put together hair, ruining it. “Actually, I think I’ll be going home. It was nice meeting you, though.”

Dracula got up, watching closely as Zev struggled to pull himself out of his seat. The vampire raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look like you’re in a condition to get yourself home.”

Zev chuckled drunkenly. “Ah, so first you’re shagging a girl while she’s engaged, and next you’re making decisions for strangers?”

The vampire tilted his head. “Are you upset?”

The boy only huffed in reply, pushing himself away from the vicinity of the Count and heading for the door. Curiously, Dracula followed, wondering why he was mad at Dracula. It didn’t quite make sense to him.

He followed Zev outside.

Really, the only one who had a reason to be upset here was Dracula. This sorry excuse for a man had drunkenly called Jack, asking to shag, mindless to the fact that Jack was already taken.

Jack Seward was Dracula’s and Dracula’s alone. He had half a mind to cut the boy’s head off then and there for even considering otherwise, but he restrained himself by considering the fact that murdering him now would result in Jack never giving him the answers. And by Jack hating him even more.

Also, Dracula was a man of his word. He was going to _start_ killing Zev tonight. That was it.

Once they were outside, Zev turned around and pointed to Dracula accusingly. “You were the one that got her sick, weren’t you? She wasn’t sick until you came into the picture.” The boy then paused, looking taken aback momentarily. Tears were in his eyes now, glinting in the moonlight like white paint. “Where’s Jack?”

Dracula bristled at the idea that Zev knew about their new arrangements. Bristled at the idea that Zev knew anything about Jack, or cared about him, or _thought_ about him. It made him want to scream.

“What do you care?” Dracula scoffed. “You asked him to shag and yet you’re out here, not caring quite who touches you. If you didn’t know me, I’d bet you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. Anything to get your mind off of your little Lucy and Jack, hm?”

Zev’s mouth gaped, searching Dracula’s eyes for any sign of pity or anything but the pure rage he was experiencing. Then he closed his mouth, thought for a second, and whispered, “You were the one that killed her, weren’t you? I know what Jack works with. I know that he has a whole vampire thing going on, and I know that Lucy was too healthy to get so sick all of a sudden. And you know what else I know?”

“What’s that?” spat Dracula.

“He hates them. Jack Seward hates everything that has to do with vampires and that’s why he’s devoted his whole life to killing them.”

The words stung more than Dracula thought they would have. Even though he knew the information, even though he could feel it in Jack’s gaze, he still had never heard the words said out loud.

“He devoted his life to feeding them, actually,” Dracula countered. Maybe the boy Zev didn’t actually know anything.

“He devoted his life to Dr. Helsing after she saved his,” Zev growled. He rolled his eyes. “500 years old… and you act like it, too.”

Dracula tilted his head, ignoring his urge to crush Zev’s heart between his fingers to ask a question. “She saved his life? How?”

Zev was silent in reply, and Dracula felt the anger rise into his hands like some sort of energy. He reached out like lightning and grabbed the boy’s throat, squeezing it. “Tell me how she saved his life,” he spat, “or, so help me, I will crush your esophagus and make talking to Dr. Seward ever again extremely difficult.”

The boy choked, grabbing at Dracula’s arms, but the vampire was much stronger than him and held on with what very well could have been a death grip.

“Fine!” Zev shouted, managing to speak roughly. “I’ll tell you!”

Dracula hesitated for a second, considering watching the light drain from Zev’s eyes. But then he stopped and let go, stepping back so he wouldn’t consider hurting the boy again.

“His parents died in front of him,” Zev managed. He rubbed at his throat, coughing. He continued, “Dr. Helsing took him in since he had nowhere to go, and she brought him into her research. That’s all I know.”

It didn’t help a single bit. Nothing this stupid, idiot, _demented_ boy said was worth Dracula’s time of day.

“How did they die?” Dracula asked.

“Suicide,” Zev mumbled. “Now you tell me. Where’s Jack?”

Now Dracula had the upper hand. He grinned, tilting his head, finally able to compose himself. “I bet you’d like to know.”

Zev straightened his shoulders, looking the vampire over. Then he cast him an almost apologetic smile. “Well. Looks like I was wrong about you.”

The Count raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How’s that?”

“You’re 500 years old and I thought you acted like. But now I realize you act just like an infant.”

For some reason, Dracula was completely helpless to react as he watched Zev turn and walk away.

He was going to be a problem. A very big problem. Such a big problem that Dracula was barely able to keep himself from following the boy home and killing him. But rather, he stayed planted to the pavement and stayed there even as it began to rain.

Jack Seward was a puzzle that was gradually losing its pieces. They were slipping through Dracula’s fingers like sand, falling to the ground and shattering. There was very little that Dracula did, in fact, know about him. Other than the fact that everything about him, whether the vampire knew about it or not, was absolutely fascinating and entrancing.

So, how did people solve puzzles?

They got to know it. They stared at the picture, assessed the pieces they did have, and then they put them into place. And when there were a few holes at the end, they could figure out what was missing and piece it together. With or without the rest of the pieces.

Dracula just had to get to know Dr. Seward as well as he could.

There was a warm feeling that settled in his gut at that thought. The idea of getting to know the doctor made him want to squirm and get to work then and there, to experience everything the doctor had to offer as soon as he could.

But he had to wait.

Because part of the picture was the environment, after all. And the environment was going to be Jack’s house.

Finding Jack Seward’s house was like finding a blood type O in a sea of A’s. That was, very simple and easy and not in the slightest bit difficult. In fact, the process of both was the same: smelling out the doctor.

Jack’s house hadn’t been touched for a while. In fact, it wasn’t even his house. It was his parents. But seeing as they were dead, and Jack lived somewhere else, it was no one’s house.

It was a smaller house than average with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a large living room space and a kitchen. The living space was unnecessarily large with a giant carpet that spanned the entirety of it, though it wasn’t connected to the floor. And it was an ugly color – a shade of green that resembled bile.

The walls were littered with expensive things in glass containers: butterflies, medals, bits of minerals that looked like they cost a fortune. One was even a page of the Bible, which didn’t make sense, but perhaps it was a really old version that they’d bought it from.

Dracula glanced around curiously. There was exactly nothing special about this house other than the fact that, at one point, Jack lived here. Otherwise, Dracula couldn’t find a single thing he cared about.

“Maybe you’re just not looking enough,” mused a voice behind him.

He spun on his heel to find none other than Zoe Helsing, arms crossed and staring at him expectantly. One nicely trimmed eyebrow was raised, waiting for a retort.

“Oh, come on,” Dracula groaned. “You’ve died. Go away already. No one wants you around anymore.”

“Well, if that were true, I wouldn’t be here at all,” replied the doctor.

Dracula only narrowed his eyes at her, then continued to snoop around the house.

The doctor followed him, standing about five feet away from him, tracing a boney finger along the wall. Then she chuckled lifelessly, which wasn’t saying a lot. “You’re here for Jack, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m here for Jack,” snapped the vampire. He turned, stopped in his tracks, and glared at the ghost. “I assume my life is going to be consumed by him for the next… century, if not millennia.”

She smiled fondly. When Dracula began walking again, so did she.

“I loved him very much,” continued the doctor. “It’s hard not to, isn’t it, Dracula?”

He scoffed. “Oh, don’t tell me you shagged him, too. I don’t want to hear about anyone else wanting to touch him.”

“Oh, no,” Zoe hummed. “I was more like a mother to him.”

Something clicked in Dracula, and he whirled around to face her again. “What do you know about him? His parents? His life? Anything? I need to know, Dr. Helsing, because I’m sure I won’t be able to function very well without knowing every single minute detail about this boy.” His voice rose the more he talked until he was practically yelling at the ghost.

At this, Zoe grinned. “Getting a little possessive, are you, Count Dracula?”

The vampire scoffed, realizing how he was sounding. “It’s hard not to. Like you said.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you anything about Jack.”

Dracula groaned, throwing his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “And why the bloody Hell not?” He looked back at Zoe. “You’re dead! You can’t protect him anymore, Dr. Helsing. And you most certainly can’t keep secrets if you’re in my head. If you’re going to stay, you’ve got to at least be helpful.”

The doctor rolled her eyes. “I’m not in your head, Dracula. Not in the way you think. You’re lonely, are you not?”

“I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“That’s part of the reason you kidnapped Jack.”

“I didn’t _kidnap_ him. I just… made sure he couldn’t leave. Kidnapping implies he didn’t even want to be there in the first place.” Dracula went quiet, waiting for the doctor to continue. When she didn’t, he extended his arms and raised an expectant eyebrow. “Well?”

“ _Well_ , Dracula, I’m here right now because you know you need someone. There’s something in this house – you know it. So you brought me here to talk you through it. Because Zev was right. You do act like an infant when it comes to figuring these things out.”

Dracula scoffed. “I’m talking to myself, aren’t I.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Terrific.”

Silence seeped over them for a second as Dracula’s eyes combed the area. How he wished he had brought Jack here, just so that the boy could look at something, give something away. Because there was a place in this house that would help piece together Jack Seward.

“Funny carpet,” Zoe noted.

“Hush, doctor, I’m thinking.”

“You don’t think the carpet looks funny?”

Dracula glared at her. Now she was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, which remained dead and somehow more stone than the wall itself.

If she was saying it, though, that must mean he was thinking it. So he nodded, entertaining the thought. Literally. “It’s a gross color. So?”

“Tell me about the carpet.”

Suppressing a groan, Dracula rubbed a hand over his face. This was getting too monotonous. He just wanted to _know_ Jack. He wanted to be able to soak up all his thoughts and feelings and memories and understand them. But he had to wait.

“It’s green,” Dracula growled through gritted teeth. “It’s green, and it’s a gross color, and it’s not even connected to the bloody floor.”

“Oh,” butted in Zoe. She clicked her tongue, shrugging lightly. “That’s interesting.”

“What, that it’s not connected to the floor?”

“Yeah.”

“Poor choice, but surely a choice.”

“Mm… was it, though?”

“Sure,” Dracula mumbled. Why were they talking about the carpet? Why was he thinking about the carpet at all?

“Why didn’t they just get carpet on the ground?”

“Maybe they’re too poor? I don’t understand them – they chose this shade, for goodness sake, it’s not like they were very sane.”

“Poor?” Zoe mused, tilting her head. “I don’t know if poor people have gold on their walls and pages of the original Bible.”

Dracula was silent for a second, pondering just what it meant when a rich person bought a bad carpet for their wooden floor. It clicked all too slowly, and he glared at Dr. Helsing with as much rage as he could manage.

“Bloody Hell, Dr. Helsing, why couldn’t you have just told me there was a secret door under here?”

“You didn’t know yet,” Zoe grinned, shrugging innocently. “How could I, and therefore you, have known before you even knew?”

He wanted to throw her out the window, just like he wanted to with Lucy, and just like he had wanted to with Zev. Except for this time he wanted to do it with a pit of lava at the bottom, or maybe a pool of sharks.

“Stop fantasizing about how much you want to kill your subconscious, Dracula, and pull the carpet up.”

He huffed but did as she told.

The carpet wasn’t hard to pull up in the slightest, and once it was up, it did reveal a trap door that was locked by a padlock, which Dracula very nicely broke with his own hand. Then he pulled it up with as much elegance as a gorilla, because it was much heavier than he’d thought.

It led to a stairway that trailed a very long way down. So far that he couldn’t even see the bottom. There was absolutely no telling what was down there. Maybe he’d find something he didn’t like about Dr. Seward, and then the fact that he was so attracted to him would become a problem.

“Shut up,” Dr. Helsing snapped.

“Excuse me?”

He turned to the woman, raising an eyebrow in shock.

“You’re thinking that there’s even a possibility that your infatuation with Jack would dwindle because of something in their basement. Don’t be stupid, Dracula. You admire every single thing about Jack Seward-“

“Except for his bloody eye contact issue.”

“- and seeing whatever’s in the basement, be it dead bodies or cocaine, won’t damage or even remotely impact your strange, unrelenting, powerful fascination with him. It’s simply impossible.”

He huffed, glancing back down to the staircase. “Well, if you’re me, and you’re thinking that it must be right, hm?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Just go.”

Again, he did as she told.

The staircase went down about six yards – less than he’d thought, but it was very tight and winding, so perhaps that was why it looked longer – and ended in one single room that was surrounded by bricks and stone and… the smell of blood, as well as rotting flesh.

Dracula scoffed, waving a hand by his nose. “It smells awful.”

“It smells like your very own basement,” Dr. Helsing offered.

Again, he glared over at her. She was being dumb. Well, that meant he was being dumb, but this time it was surely really Dr. Helsing saying these incredibly unintelligent things. “What, like dead bodies? Rotting flesh and carcasses? There’s no way Jack-bloody-Seward’s basement smells like mine did.”

A pause.

“Well, there is a way. I’d assume that’s because that’s what’s in here," suggested the doctor.

“What- “

She – and, actually, he flipped the light switch on, bracing himself against the wall because the stench was really getting to him.

Half of the room was cut off by a chain-link fence. Behind which were two people, male and female.

And they were vampires.

Together, they looked over at Dracula with wide, dead eyes. Blue eyes. Jonathan Harker and Jack Seward’s eyes.

“Jack?” asked the woman. “Have you finally come to kill us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the fuck should i do with zev i literally have no idea please help
> 
> have a really good day and thx for reading ily


	6. Ecophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecophobia - the fear of one's home

Of all the things Dracula had been expecting to find in Jack Seward’s basement – and it had certainly been a long list – his vampire parents had not at all been anywhere near the list. In fact, if someone had told him that Jack had something of the sort in his basement, he’d have scoffed and been insulted that someone would think so low of Jack.

But now, seeing that there were, in fact, his dead parents in his basement, Dracula was both unsettled and entirely too intrigued.

“Did you know about this?” Dracula asked the doctor.

Dr. Helsing clicked her tongue condescendingly. “You know better than to ask me questions you don’t know the answer to.”

“Well, maybe my subconscious has some inkling of an idea. You knew Jack quite well so it wouldn’t be too strange for you to know he had this in his basement.”

It was still difficult to understand that ‘this’ was his dead parents who were begging to be killed.

“I did, then,” Dr. Helsing shrugged. Her tone said she was only saying it to get him to shut up about it.

“You’re absolutely useless.”

“You’re only talking about yourself, Count Dracula.”

He shot her a glare before approaching the people behind the chain-link fence, crossing his arms. They really did resemble Jack in the sense that they held a sort of silent attraction about them. Not that Dracula was in any sense attracted to the heaps of flesh -and that’s practically what they were at this point – but he could see the faint relation to the boy.

The woman was the one with the vibrant blue eyes, the man with deeper ones that looked like the ocean. Except they were dead and not nearly as beautiful and sparkling as Jack’s. The woman had a sharper, thinner jaw, while the man carried Jack’s thin nose and very slender, tall figure.

Dracula tilted his head at them. “I guess we all meet our maker, hm?”

Jack’s father scrambled to his feet. There didn’t look to be anything particularly wrong with him – that was, Dracula couldn’t identify how he died and, really, couldn’t even see much of anything indicating he was, in fact, dead. It was only the smell that resonated around the room that gave it away.

“Who the Hell are you?” the man growled.

Well, he was far more aggressive than seemed possible for someone that gave life to Jack. The fragile little boy with bright, timid eyes couldn’t have possibly come from such an abrupt man.

“I’m your maker. I just said it.” Dracula crossed his arms, looking the two over. “I’m assuming you’re Jack Seward’s parents?”

“Yes!” cried the woman, eyes suddenly going bright. “Have you seen him?”

Dracula had hit the jackpot, then. He tilted his head back just slightly and continued to look the two over through his eyelashes before huffing and glancing to Zoe. She was standing by the wall, eyes focused very keenly on the couple.

She glanced at him. “They couldn’t have been here for more than a month or two. I guess we can assume that’s how long I had Jack in my care?”

“Who’s care?” asked the man. Black dripped from his chin as he spoke, reminding Dracula of many of his undead ‘friends,’ but mostly Lucy. He shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve been dead for forty-three days. What’s happened to Jack?”

“He’s fine,” Dracula mumbled. “Zoe Helsing’s care. The doctor. She took him in after… whatever happened to you guys happened.”

At this, the woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That bitch took him in?”

“Ouch,” hissed Zoe.

“I have a few questions,” Dracula grinned, approaching the fence. He had no idea where to start, but he figured he should start with the best ones that would fit the puzzle pieces best. “What connection does Jack have to Jonathan Harker?”

At this, the man grinned pridefully. “Oh, so you’re a fan of the famous vampire-killer?”

Dracula raised an eyebrow, mouth forming an ‘o’ in surprise. Speechless for a second, he could only stare at the couple. Then he scoffed, “Vampire killer? Since bloody when?”

“Since he sacrificed himself for Mina,” said the woman. She, too, looked full of pride. “She was my great grandmother, Jack’s great-great-grandmother. I’m surprised you don’t know about our family history.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been in a box for 123 years. Can’t say I’ve been too up-to-date about anything,” he grumbled. Dracula tried not to focus on how frustrating it was that these people were giving Jonathan, of all people, the title of ‘vampire-killer’ even when they knew she didn’t actually kill a vampire.

“Wait a minute,” whispered Jack’s father, squinting his eyes. He stared at Dracula like he was piecing him apart. If only Jack had gotten that sort of eye contact from his father, but rather, it looked like he took after his mom, who was staring at the opposite wall. “You’re Dracula, aren’t you? That’s why Rebecca thought you should’ve known our family history.”

“How in the bloody Hell could you even tell?” Dracula growled. First Zev recognized him, now Jack’s father? “Agatha made sure no one even remembered me. Jonathan Harker hadn’t even written his beloved book about his encounter with me, and his foundation is so underground I’d be surprised if even the president knew about it.”

The woman sighed, standing up.

Now that Dracula could see her full body, it was obvious to see how she died: a stab wound was in her chest, shrouded by blood on her white shirt. It consumed most of it, and the rest of it was tinted brown from dirt and grime, but otherwise, it was entirely obvious.

“It’s because I’ve seen you before, Dracula. In my memories.” The woman tapped her head, putting three fingers through the fence to grip it tightly with bruised, black knuckles. “You’re the only thing I’ve been able to think about for thirty years.”

“Why?” Dracula asked, stepping forward until they were about three inches apart. The smell inundated his every sense, but he forced himself to ignore it so he could get his answers from the woman. “Tell me, Rebecca, I need to understand Jack.”

She scoffed. “That boy has been the exact thing this family doesn’t need. You’re finally here, and he’s the one that you get to deal with.”

“I’m not complaining,” Dracula murmured.

Rebecca bit her lip, parts of the dry skin peeling off. She spat it out. “Now look at us. Jackson and I, a couple of vampires…” She looked down at the ground. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. That boy is just a wimp. If only we could have fixed him.”

“Explain it to me, then!” Dracula hissed. “Maybe I can help.”

He didn’t want to fix Jack. Other than the boy’s eye contact problem, he didn’t want anything about the boy to change. But he wanted answers. And working with these crumby excuses for parents may have been the only way to do it.

“Oh, you?” exclaimed Jackson, the husband. He stood up as well. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess to begin with!”

“I don’t understand,” Dracula mumbled. This was getting monotonous. He turned to Dr. Helsing. “What am I supposed to do? They’re useless.”

“No, they’re not,” replied the doctor. Pity was in her eyes as she looked the vampire over. “Come on, Dracula, I know you know how to get these answers. What do they want?”

What did vampires want? Blood? No, they didn’t want to continue living. Dracula glanced the two over before it finally occurred to him that these two didn’t want to be vampires. They didn’t want to be alive anymore.

Death was their biggest desire, and Dracula could give it to them easily.

“Answer my questions, and I’ll kill you both.”

A strange promise, but it certainly worked, because they both perked up at the idea. Rebecca’s eyes sparkled at the idea, just like Jack’s did.

“What do you want to know, Dracula?” asked the man. He raised an eyebrow, seemingly hesitant to answer the questions. “And why should we trust you to keep your word?”

“I’m a man of my word.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then, “Kill Jackson now and I’ll give you all the answers you want,” Rebecca offered. “I’m the one that has them.”

“What?” Jackson asked, looking at her with panic and almost betrayal. “No. Rebecca, we do it together.”

“Trust me, Jackson,” she whispered to him, putting a hand on his arm. Her soft voice reminded Dracula of Jack. Maybe that was what he got it from. “I’ll be close behind you.”

The man bit his lip. Then he looked at Dracula. “Fine. Kill me.”

“That wasn’t even the deal,” scoffed the vampire.

“Kill him or you don’t get the answers.”

“How did this turn to stop benefitting me?” Dracula growled. When the woman gave him a pointed glare, he rolled his eyes. “Fine! Fine, I’ll kill him. But I suppose I’m putting my faith in you to keep your word.”

Rebecca intertwined her fingers with her husband. “I have no reason not to, vampire.”

Dracula began to glance around for a stake, clicking his tongue in thought before Zoe pointed to a rack that held many, many weapons and objects that had been rumored to kill or hurt vampires. There were wooden stakes, garlic, a bottle of water, a cross… none of which Dracula was sure affected him anymore.

Well, not the wooden stakes, at least. They killed Lucy and had very well almost killed Jonathan if he hadn’t been a suicidal idiot.

Otherwise, they were all just ‘fetishes,’ as Zoe had said.

“Glad to know my work resonated with you,” mused the doctor.

“I wouldn’t have cared if it hadn’t impacted my 500 years of living,” spat the vampire.

He grabbed one of the stakes off the shelf, approaching the chain-link fence. Jackson instantly pressed himself against it, almost in a creepy fashion, presenting himself to the vampire for murder.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Rebecca, love,” whispered the man.

“Oh, trust me,” Dracula spat. He reared his hand back and then struck the fatal blow to the man. “There is no ‘other side.’”

Not like he would know. He’d never died, truly, before. But it sounded like a really great, final piece of advice to give someone who was dying for the last time.

The man dissolved to dust, just as Lucy had. Dracula stepped back, letting go of the stake. It somehow balanced between the fence, remaining in the air as Rebecca and Dracula stared at the pile of ash.

Boy, had that felt good.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear them before me,” admitted Rebecca. “Seeing as you’ve been doing this vampire thing for a few hundred years.”

He raised his head, glancing her over. “Hear what?”

Zoe chuckled behind him, and Dracula turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Did you hear something and not tell me?”

“What is it with you and being outsmarted by women?” scoffed Dr. Helsing. “Agatha, me… and now Rebecca Seward. Well done, Miss Seward. It’s nice to see he’s still rusty.”

The three of them sat in silence, then, and finally, Dracula heard it: police sirens. He tilted his head and listened closely to hear how close they were. It was impossible to tell exactly, but the fact that he could hear them at all meant they were close enough to be there in perhaps five minutes.

“What does it matter?” Dracula asked Dr. Helsing, then turned to Rebecca, realizing his subconscious couldn’t give him the answer he didn’t know. “I’ll just tell them I saved you. Found you in this cage in your basement and thank the Lord you’re not dead yet. It’ll be easy to fool them.”

Rebecca grinned. “I’m not going to let you off so easily, Dracula. Not after you’ve been plaguing my family for so many years.”

“I haven’t even done anything to you,” Dracula growled. “What, okay, maybe I did kill your great grandfather and turn him into a vampire and then kill him again. But does that matter now? It’s the future, Rebecca.”

Zoe scoffed, shaking her head. “This is about more than just Jonathan Harker, Dracula. That much is obvious, isn’t it?”

He turned to her with an accusatory point. “You don’t get to say anything.” He faced the Seward's again, trying to regain his cool. It was difficult, though, when the more he continued talking to Rebecca, the more he wanted to just go home and be with Jack. He had to leave soon anyway, so he just had to be patient. “Tell me why you and Jack hate me so much. At least do that for me.”

“Because you’ve been in our minds since Mina Harker swore to kill every vampire she came into contact with. She started the wretched family tradition, and you’re going to be the end of it. Jack will be the end of it.”

“We need to go,” Zoe said. The police sirens were getting louder.

“Wait,” Rebecca growled. She pressed herself against the fence, gripping it tightly. “Tell Jack that he’s the last chance this family has at becoming normal. He can end the tradition. Tell him that, Dracula. Tell him.”

Dracula clicked his tongue, looking the desperate woman over. Then he grinned cheekily. “I’m not sure I will.”

And then he headed up the stairs, Zoe following closely behind him. He could hear the grin on her lips as she spoke. “You’re not curious as to who called the police?”

“Hm,” Dracula hummed. He left through the back door, beginning to walk at a casual pace back to his apartment. Police lights flashed against the ground as he walked, but they would never find the culprit. “They didn’t have an alarm system?”

“Didn’t see one.”

“Well, then, I don’t…” Dracula went quiet as his mind wandered to the exact place it needed to be.

“It was that damn albino boy, wasn’t it,” Dracula seethed. He whirled, facing Zoe with a glare, wanting some sort of validation though he knew the whole ‘if you don’t know the answer, I won’t,’ but maybe his subconscious _knew_ the answer.

Except she was gone. Once again, Dracula was left completely alone. He sucked in a slow breath, settling down to take in the night around him. It was cold and dark and a little wet from the rain beforehand, but mostly it was just quiet.

Jack’s memories gave Dracula very little. After all, he’d only drank until the boy passed out, which had been about three seconds’ worth. But in the little flash of memories he got, he felt nostalgia at the thought of flashing city lights and the sound of cars and people talking to each other in faint, eavesdropped conversations.

Jack enjoyed the city. He liked everything about it.

And though it was the exact opposite of what Dracula had lived in and loved, he took a moment to appreciate the boy’s taste and found himself enjoying it very, very much.

It was hard to know what type of food Jack would like, but Dracula ended up deciding on some ‘Burger King,’ which wasn’t at all in the boy’s memories or anyone’s that he could draw up, except there was a faint loathing of it in Lucy’s. It was the only food place Dracula could find within walking distance of his apartment, though, so he wasn’t going to think twice.

He got a burger and a drink for the boy and began ascending his stairs to his apartment room, pulling his keys from his pocket with his free hand, balancing the drink between the burger in the bag and his chin. Then he unlocked his door and pushed the door in, unable to suppress a smile that formed at the thought of seeing Jack again.

“Jackie?” he called.

There was no answer. Perhaps the boy was mad. That would make sense.

A low growl caught his attention. He turned, glancing curiously to the room to his door. And then slowly – because he was figuring out what the situation was – glanced to the place Zoe Van Helsing had been when he’d left.

And now she wasn’t there.

Already frustrated, Dracula set the food on the table and took quick strides to the door, throwing it open.

A hiss sounded, and Dracula collapsed back. There was Zoe, back from the dead, in Jack’s room. She looked just the same as she had two hours ago, except now, of course, she was dead and had none of her old personality whatsoever.

 _Well, Jack, she really didn’t turn out anything like me_ , Dracula thought to the boy.

He got to his feet, going to grab Jack’s bag to get the stakes from it, only to find absolutely nothing on the table.

And the door was ajar.

“Jack?” Dracula called, ignoring the clawing grabs from Zoe. He instead approached the door to his room and peered inside.

No one. The leftmost bedpost was broken off. Jack must have broken it or…

Zoe Van Helsing had managed to open the door to try and eat him. 

He turned to her, glaring as she tried to grab at his button-up. He drew his hand back and backhanded her, watching the vampire collapse helplessly to the ground. This stupid, stupid thing. Why on Earth had he left her in the living room? He should’ve disposed of her body.

Well, he had to act fast now.

Fast enough to catch Jack Seward, who could have been anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm considering posting another chapter tomorrow instead of the next day bcuz this chapter is a bit boring
> 
> lemme know y'all's thoughtz


	7. Myrmecophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrmecophobia - the fear of zombies

The room was getting boring. Not that Jack particularly wanted to be involved enough with Dracula’s room to have something to do, but it was getting boring just staring at the window and wishing he could talk to anyone. He took to trying desperately to reach his phone, though it was to no avail because Dracula was so strange that his bed was perhaps five feet off the ground, which made reaching down to retrieve the phone just that much more difficult.

Then he took to watching the seconds go by, as his screen was open to at least reveal the time. This became excruciatingly boring and soon the only thing Jack could do was think again. And it brought him back to square one again: the Box.

This time, though, he could hear a voice. Which was new.

It was a British voice, seemingly much more proper than anything he’d ever heard, and the wording used wasn’t particularly modern. Jack listened because that’s all he could do.

“I’m sorry you’ve gotten yourself into this situation,” said the male voice. It sounded genuine. “I didn’t like it here, either.”

Jack didn’t say anything, only kept his eyes wide open, turned to the spot that the light usually originated at. This time, there was nothing, but in these sorts of situations, he had learned that it was very important to be ready for everything.

“Jack…” whispered the man. There was a shifting sound, probably on the bed, except Jack couldn’t feel it. “Jack, I need you to know that I never wanted any of this for our family. It was Mina’s decision, she… she talked me into it. But now I realize it has been an awful thing for everyone.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was talking to: Jonathan Harker. The man who began everything.

“We can’t go back,” was Jack’s feeble reply. He sounded so small in the giant box.

Jonathan huffed. “You’re right.”

They sat in silence for a second while the older man probably just stared at the nothingness Jack had put them in.

“I’m sure you want a shower,” offered Jonathan.

“I want a lot of things.”

“Well, _I_ want you to take a shower. You don’t smell very well.”

It was difficult to not crack a grin at that. Jack had learned very little about his great-great-grandmother, even less about his great-great-grandmother, but now it was becoming apparent that he wasn’t all that bad.

He’d grown up hating Jonathan for putting him in this situation. Hated his own parents for it, too, but mostly the people who’d started it: Dracula, Jonathan Harker, and Mina. But maybe he only had Dracula to blame for this entire mess.

“Who’s the kid?” asked Jack, his voice echoing.

Jonathan hummed a question.

“The one at the end of the Box. It crawls towards me and bites me sometimes… Do you know who it is?”

There was another blanket of silence that wafted over them like a warm breeze. Jack didn’t mind sitting in silence with Jonathan. Not when the man was the only company he had in the Box, or in the house, or in the entire apartment building as it was.

“I never knew its name. O-Or even its gender – I just… I heard it crying. Dracula told me countless times that there was no baby, but… Jack, I heard it, loud and clear. No matter how delusional he’d made me, I was at least conscious of the fact that there was a child. And when the woman put me in the box… she’d been fed the child, I guess, and… and it had turned to a vampire.”

Jack lifted his head, blinking and looking to Jonathan, though it was useless. “It’s a vampire child?” he whispered.

“Well, it was, yes. Except I’d assume now it’s dead.”

“How?”

“How did it die?” Jonathan asked. He chuckled lifelessly. “Well, Mina killed everything in that building after Dracula left with Agatha. Or, everything she could find. The thing’s she couldn’t find got out into the world, and you know the rest.”

“I don’t,” Jack mumbled.

The story he’d been told was simple and short: Jonathan sacrificed himself for Mina because she was pregnant with his child, but not before making her drink some of his blood so that she had all of his memories. She swore to kill all the vampires for doing such a thing to her husband, stormed to Dracula’s castle, slayed the beasts within, then left and had her child. At home, she encountered more vampires. In the process of fighting them off, she got bitten. Then began the tradition - the Reckoning.

“I know about as much as you, to be honest,” Jonathan admitted. He chuckled again. “Because I was, well, dead for the entirety of it. But I do know that Mina… Mina became violent and reckless. I watched her for those years that she was alone, Jack, and… well, she wasn’t the woman I fell in love with.”

Jack shifted, drawing his knees up to his chest. Usually, his feet would scrape against the wood as he did this, but now he felt the sheets on the bed pull up as he moved. The hallucination was fading. That meant Jonathan would, too.

“I suppose losing a loved one changes people, doesn’t it?” Jack murmured.

Another short pause, and then, “Well, it hasn’t changed you, Jack. And you’ve lost more than most.”

Jonathan’s voice was getting dimmer, and Jack shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t really want to be here alone,” he said.

“The Box will fade when I do. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I mean… here. In Dracula’s house.”

“Oh, so that’s where we are.”

Jack nodded, except Jonathan couldn’t see it, but he didn’t do anything else.

“You’re scared, Jack. I understand that fear. Of… being at the vampire’s will. Of not knowing if you’ll survive another day, of not knowing how to act around him. But listen, Jack… whatever happens, just know that I, if not your parents, am very proud of you.”

Jack bit his lip, hugging his legs closer to his chest.

“Thanks,” he breathed.

And then the Box vanished.

He blinked, surveying the room. It was darker now, as the only light Jack had was from the window, and it was nighttime. He could at least see the city from the window – the building lights, the light poles, the telephone lines.

It was so relaxing that Jack managed to close his eyes for a second.

That was, until he heard a scraping at the door.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that it was Dr. Helsing, risen from death. She probably heard him talking and was trying to decide if she could get blood from within the room or not.

There were two options for Jack: be quiet or die. If Dr. Helsing got in the room while she was a disgruntled, hungry vampire, there was no way she’d be able to restrain herself from killing him. So he had to be utterly silent in hopes that she would go away.

But what if that wasn’t his only option?

Licking his lips, Jack looked down to his hands, wondering if it was worth it to come up with such an unruly plan. It could very well end up in his death, but there was a question that wouldn’t leave his head: was it any worse than his current situation?

The answer was no, not really.

So he began enacting his very spur-of-the-moment plan, which was simply to force the doctor to enter the room by enticing her with the one thing he had that she was craving.

Blood.

Jack had no sharp objects around him – Dracula wasn’t dumb enough to leave him with something like that – but Jack did find a pencil beside Dracula’s bed. And, well, lead poisoning be damned. Jack was running out of options. If he didn’t draw blood, the vampire wouldn’t have enough motivation to get into the room. And then Jack would have absolutely no chance of getting out.

Gritting his teeth, he picked up the pencil and stared at it.

One…

Two…

_Thr-_

The pencil was in his hand before he could finish the word – and by _in_ , it really was in. And it _hurt_. Worse than when Dracula bit him, but maybe that was because he’d really been out of it, but this pain was really, really bad, and it seemed to be radiating through his entire hand, and-

A howl from the other side of the door let him know his plan was working.

Hand shaking, he pried the pencil out of his hand. He could feel the little splinters of wood prick the inside of his hand until it was out, and he threw it to the side in what could only be described as unfitting anger towards the object.

“Come on!” he seethed to the creature on the other side. _Dr. Helsing_.

Blood was pouring from the wound already. It was only his hand, so it wasn’t bleeding all that much, but it was definitely enough to not only hurt a lot but also to make him feel lightheaded. Maybe it was just the sight of blood.

Best of all, the vampire at the door began to pound more aggressively.

“Just twist the door handle,” Jack seethed under his breath. He clutched at his wound, holding it close to his chest. It was beginning to bleed onto Dracula’s sweater that he’d been loaned, which Jack wasn’t complaining about because it was a small way of getting back at the vampire for biting him in the first place.

As though the vampire heard him, she began to jiggle the door handle. In any other circumstances, someone violently twisting a door handle would be incredibly terrifying for Jack, but now, he was utterly prepared for whatever was to come.

And come it did.

The door burst open once the vampire got it at just the right angle, and the still-lovely-looking Dr. Helsing stumbled into the room. She looked quite like a zombie in the moonlight, arms extended to grab at any flesh life form, _hungry_. 

“Oh, shit,” Jack whispered.

He definitely hadn’t thought this far and now that he was in the situation, it seemed so, so, _so_ dumb.

The vampire approached too quickly like some horror film with a cheap jump scare, and he was shaking so terribly that the cameraman may as well have been on drugs. He shuddered and pressed himself further into the headrest of the bed, and then-

_Snap._

Jack paused to find the woman had pressed herself so far into the left bedpost that it had, in fact, broken.

Now he had to act fast.

Throwing himself off the side of the bed, Jack pulled himself to his feet and ran – sprinted, more like, to the door. Once out, he slammed it shut. With the final click of the lock, he took three slow steps back until he was sitting on the table.

His heart was pounding. It almost reminded him of the club with Zev…

Zev.

Oh, and his phone was still in the bedroom.

Jack scoffed, rubbing his face and cradling it in his hands. “Shit!” he growled. This day was just getting awful.

He pulled his hand back to see that it was still bleeding, and he had been an idiot and smeared it across his face, no doubt making him look like some ancient tribe warrior who was ready for battle.

He snorted at the thought, pushing himself off the table to go clean up in the bathroom.

Numbly, he washed his hands.

Still lingering in his mind was the memory of Dr. Helsing – the woman he very well could have called his mother – running towards him to _drink his blood_ was an image that wouldn’t soon fade. In fact, as he scrubbed the blood off his face, he could only think of the fact that he could have died.

His parent's training might have come in handy, but he would never admit to it. It wasn’t like it was something he’d actively, willingly, or voluntarily participated in. It had been the worst years of his life and somehow he’d retained something from it.

That, if nothing else, was grossly frustrating.

Before Jack was able to bandage the wound, he could hear someone on the other side fumble with the door handle.

Dracula.

Quick thinking, Jack turned the water off and moved so that he was sitting between the door and the sink, flipping the light off. The vampire wouldn’t be able to see him, hopefully, and when the moment was right…

It did happen perfectly.

Dracula went to find Jack in his room, and when he opened the door and was faced with Dr. Helsing, Jack sprinted to his bag. Though he stopped, glancing to Dracula, only for his eyes to fall on the food he’d left on the table.

After only perhaps a millisecond of hesitation, Jack grabbed the food, stuffed it in his bag, grabbed the drink, and darted out.

The vampire was fast, Jack could assume. He had to assume that. So he ran as fast as he could, deciding for the stairs rather than the elevator. The bar of wood connected to his ankle jostled behind him, creating quite too much racket as he ran.

But he continued on down the stairs, ignoring the burning in his lungs. Occasionally, when he could, he’d steal a sip of water, but otherwise, he focused solely on running.

Above him, he could hear the topmost door open.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck_

Jack continued running until he slammed into the last door. He swung it open, throwing himself out and heading for the lobby door. No one questioned him – not the clerk, not the people in the eating area, not even the little girl sitting with her mom by the faux fire – as he bolted at top speed with a drink in his hand, a large bag on his side, and a piece of wood cuffed to his ankle.

No, they only watched him until he was out of their sight.

There was no hiding from the vampire when he had his scent, so Jack decided to do a very dumb thing.

That was, stand right in the middle of traffic.

At about the time he did so, Dracula burst through the door, fists clenched in suppressed rage. Or, it wasn’t so suppressed, because his face was contorted into a very, very intense glare that once again made Jack want to curl up into nothing and disappear.

However, he considered himself saved when a honk sounded in front of him: a taxi.

Jack cast a very kind smile to the driver and rushed to the side door, just as Dracula began to pace towards him. Maybe if he was fast enough, maybe if his reflexes were quick enough-

As Jack opened the door, he felt a very strong hand push him by his mid-back into the car. He fell face-first into the other side of the car and then scrambled to prop himself up, pressing his back as far as it would go into the door.

Calmly, coolly, collected, the vampire ducked into the car and gave the driver a much more menacing smile. “Sorry about all this,” Dracula chuckled to the driver. He gave the man Jack’s home address, then he simply looked out the window.

As if nothing about this situation was bad or weird or in the slightest bit needing an explanation.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Jack drew his legs up to his chest. The wood stake jostled as his foot did.

This caught the vampire’s attention because he grinned at Jack. “I’m going to be honest, Jackie, I’m… thoroughly impressed. This, though?”

The vampire reached over and tugged none too gracefully at Jack’s hand, pulling the bloody one into view. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and looking right into Jack’s eyes. Instinctively, Jack looked down to his hand, biting his lip nervously.

“This can never happen again.”

Jack continued to sink his teeth into his lips, not caring if he drew blood or not. Surely it wouldn’t impact the vampire if he was able to restrain himself from Jack’s still-bleeding palm. His little ‘jog’ couldn’t have helped the amount of blood coming from it, as his increased heart-rate had no doubt pumped more blood out.

“Jack,” the vampire said in a threateningly low voice.

Still, he couldn’t look up.

The vampire only let out a low growl as he reached out with his other hand. Then, without warning but also quite slowly, he slipped his thumb into Jack’s mouth, parting his lips and forcing him to stop biting. He tilted Jack’s head up until they were looking at each other again with the pad of his thumb against Jack’s tongue, forcing him to practically suck.

This clearly caused Dracula great pleasure. He seemed to soak in the sight of Jack like this, eyes glancing from every pore on his face until they landed with some gross finality onto the boy’s eyes.

“You’re beautiful, Jack Seward,” the vampire whispered. “But no matter how much I enjoy this – you, that is – _this_ little bit just won’t fly. Do you understand?”

Jack refused to speak. Also, he couldn’t.

Dracula hummed in quiet enjoyment, finally taking his thumb out of Jack’s mouth and letting him go. Now free, Jack sat back as quickly as he could until his neck pressed against the cold window. “We have a lot to discuss once we get to your house, Jackie. I must admit, I quite liked it. Very simple, but once you get to the basement, things just… liven up a little bit.”

At this, Jack’s heart sunk.

The Count had been in his house. He’d seen his basement.

He’d seen everything.

"Eat up," sneered Dracula, patting Jack's bag that rested between them. "You'll need it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo golly


	8. Atychiphobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atychiphobia - the fear of failure

It had, of course, crossed Jack’s mind to just tuck and roll out of the car. However, there were a few things stopping him: one, they were in the city. It might not work out too well to suddenly fling oneself into the flow of traffic. Two, Dracula wasn’t dumb. When Jack had drawn his knees up to his chest, the vampire had taken the bit of bedpost still connected to Jack’s ankle cuff and held it tightly in his hand. Now Jack’s legs were cast over Dracula’s lap, and the vampire had his hands rested gently on him.

His house wasn’t all that far from Dracula’s – about thirty minutes – and in that time, Jack felt too sick to eat. He had put the water in the cup holder and had taken to hugging himself, setting his head back against the window and closing his eyes.

He only knew he was in the Box because the sound of the car became dimmer, fainter, like it was elsewhere. Once he opened his eyes, he was still shrouded by darkness.

Remaining calm was harder than it had been before. Dracula’s presence made not being able to see the real world fill Jack with more paranoia than usual. It soaked under his skin like acid until he shifted slightly, biting his lip, and pressed his hand to the wall.

Wood. The wood of the Box was the only thing he felt.

The light at the end began to shine, and this time the child was there. The vampire child. Jack bit his lip harder, pressing his back into the car door. Except all it felt like was wood.

The child began to crawl towards him, like it always did, but this time Jack couldn’t stay still. He desperately tried to draw his legs up to his chest again, but Dracula’s grip tightened on them.

_Letgoletgoletgoletgo-_

Jack let out a strangled cry as the baby latched its teeth into his leg, tears brimming in his eyes. Pain coursed through him, blossoming like a flower through his skin. He tried to get his legs away from Dracula, struggling violently against the other, but Dracula held tighter.

“Jack,” warned the vampire.

“Let go,” Jack choked out, trying to reach for the baby to get it to let go, maybe kick it off, anything, but his hands only passed through it.

He was terrified. It _hurt_.

Hands clasped around his arms, and suddenly Jack was hoisted into the air and set on what he knew was the vampire’s lap, pressed firmly into the man’s chest. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, one gripping the back of his neck.

Gradually, like it had been caught on fire, the Box dissolved.

So did the child.

The pain only turned into a dull, quiet throb.

And then it was only Jack sitting in Dracula’s lap with the man holding him so close he wondered if he would break. He wasn’t breathing. Jack wasn’t used to being held, but he did know people breathed, and it was strange to feel someone not doing it.

“Where did you go, Jack?” Dracula whispered, letting him go.

Jack went to move off of the vampire, trembling all over, but the man rested his hands on Jack’s waist. He stiffened.

“Did you get hurt?” the vampire continued.

“Let me go,” Jack whispered.

“What happened to you? Why are you seeing these things?”

“I said, let me go.”

Jack looked down to Dracula’s arms, trying to pry them off of him. And the vampire did let go – not long enough for Jack to breathe a breath of relief, though, because the hand he let go moved to grab Jack’s chin, lifting it just enough to make him look into the vampire’s eyes.

He bit his lip, swallowing nervously. “Let me go,” Jack said more levelly, though his voice trembled.

Dracula looked into his eyes quietly, searching his face, like he usually did. Soaking it in. Until he smiled and clicked his tongue. “I don’t think I will.”

“I’m done with this,” Jack said, except it came out way more quietly and nervously than he’d meant. He took in a shaky breath, putting his hand on Dracula’s chest. “Let me go or I’m going to yell.”

At this, the vampire only smiled fondly and tilted his head. “Really?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Go ahead.”

Jack bit his lip, looking the vampire over. “What?”

“I _said_ , Jack Seward, go ahead.” Casually, the vampire sat back, looking up at jack adoringly. There was a gentle, knowing grin on his lips that made Jack _want_ to scream. He wanted to slap it off Dracula’s face, or maybe kick him where it hurt.

“Why are you testing me? I will do it.”

“Really, Jack?”

“Y-Yes. I’ll scream.”

“Then, Jack,” whispered the vampire, leaning up until their noses brushed. Jack didn’t move an inch, only curled his fingers into the vampire’s shirt. “Do it.”

If only he could. He wanted to, Lord knew, but everything in him – absolutely everything – kept his vocal cords stiff and silent, kept him quiet as he only stared down at Dracula with what he hoped was a menacing glare.

“Aw,” cooed the vampire. “You’re pouting. That’s cute.”

“I know you can’t scream, Jack,” continued the vampire. “You’re just too… oh, I don’t know. Gentle? Quiet?” A pause, and then, “Perfect.”

Jack squirmed on the vampire’s lap, feeling unnerved by the phrasing. In fact, he felt more than unnerved; he felt frustrated, which grew to irritation and then anger. Being unable to scream – really? That was something Dracula liked? Fine. If it was something he liked, why would Jack hold onto a trait like that?

He gathered the scream into his vocal cords, a cry for help, and opened his mouth to release it and alert the taxi driver –

\- only for the vampire to clamp a hand over Jack’s mouth, shoving him back into the front passenger seat. Jack grunted in surprise, eyes going wide as he stared at the vampire, who leaned over him like a shadow.

“And you’re _rebellious_. You know… Zev said you hated vampires.”

 _Zev_.

Jack wanted to ask if he was okay, but the hand on his mouth kept him silent.

The vampire continued, “He was particularly frustrating. And I’ll be honest, Jack, only because I respect you so much – I didn’t touch him. He was a little sneaky. And drunk. But… believe me, you do anything so foolish like this again and I will not hesitate to rip his throat out like a fucking wolf. Do you hear me?”

The only thing Jack could do was nod, and it was a very faint, soft, nervous nod.

Dracula looked him over again. The same way he always did; with peering, sponge-like eyes that absolutely soaked up everything that Jack was. The look that put him under a microscope, turned it all the way to the highest magnifying, and then got just a little closer.

“Same goes for this,” Dracula added, the hand on Jack’s mouth creeping down to his hand, where the pencil wound was. He held Jack’s hand, palm up, between them. Dried blood was all over it. It was under his nails, trailing down his wrist. The wound itself had scabbed over at least, but it needed to be cleaned.

“And this,” the vampire said. The hand reached up and stroked his thumb over Jack’s bottom lip, which had been chewed on abusively. The salt on Dracula’s fingers stung when it came into contact with Jack’s lips. He flinched back but kept quiet. “Anything like this and Zev will get it. Please understand it’s for your own good.”

“My own good,” Jack whispered under his breath, just loud enough for the vampire to hear, “would have been you staying in your dirt coffin two miles under the ocean.”

The words ‘dirt coffin’ was spat out a bit more aggressively than he’d intended, and soon Jack looked to the side. The intensity of Dracula’s gaze was becoming too much.

“Excuse me?” said the driver.

It startled both of them – Jack more so, as he flinched so hard that Dracula gripped his shoulders as if he thought Jack was going to make a run for it.

“We’ve arrived. Thank you. That’ll be sixty dollars, please, thank you.”

The man didn’t speak English very well, and Jack hesitantly reached into his pocket to grab for his wallet, but Dracula’s hand darted down to grip his wrist before he could.

Not even looking at Jack, the vampire said, “Your payment is keeping your blood, how’s that?”

“Excuse me?”

Dracula opened the door and pushed it open, seemingly quite upset now, and he pushed Jack out. It took a second for him to gather his footing, but by the time he did, Dracula had already grabbed him by his upper arm and had begun dragging him inside.

The driver sped off for some reason.

Jack stumbled behind the vampire, only briefly able to take a glance at his house. The very sight of it filled him with dread and tears emerged in his eyes before he could stop them.

“Stop,” he breathed, trying to tug against the vampire’s grip, but it was like iron and continued to drag him inside. “Dracula, please, stop. I-I’m sorry I said what I did.” He tried planting his feet in the mud.

It did nothing.

“Struggle more and I will not hesitate to throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”

And so Jack stopped struggling. He only ignored the piercing shrill screams that began echoing in his head the second he entered the house, and he dropped to his knees, resisting the urge to scream back at them.

It _hurt_.

It felt like someone was shoving needles into his eyes and ears, or like they were shoving nails into his brain. It ached. He wanted to stop existing, or to run, but he couldn’t even move.

“What’s happening, Jack?” spat the vampire.

“It’s the house,” Jack gasped. He could barely hear himself.

“How do we stop it?” asked Dracula.

In the past, after the Reckoning, the only thing that had been able to stop the screams, besides leaving the house, had been something centering. Something that proved to him he was here, in the year, the month, the day that was today, and not years before when the rest of his family had been hurt the way they had in the exact same house.

Pain had been the solution years ago.

Now, the solution was physical contact.

Except for no matter how badly Jack knew he needed it, he couldn’t move. All he could do was curl into a ball and wish the screaming wasn’t real. He could only wish it wasn’t something he was listening to, like he was only imagining it, but it was _needles_ in his head.

Without prompting, the vampire knelt beside Jack and stroked a gentle, passive, _quiet_ hand down his cheek.

And when it was gone, so were the screams.

Jack lay panting, ears ringing, staring at the vampire’s shoes.

The vampire spoke. “You need me, Jack Seward. Almost as much as I believe I need you.”

Jack fell asleep to the pounding of his heart and the oddly gentle hands of Dracula.

He woke up in his bed. Not _his_ bed, really, not the one that Zoe’s house, but it was his bed. The one he’d grown up in. The one that had the sheets he had to wash every other night because of blood smears, the one that had bleached white sheets and pillows, the one that was tucked so neatly and cleanly because it had been one of the few things Jack could control in his life.

The one that now had Dracula standing beside it, examining the wall. It had Jack’s old comic books on it, pictures of DC and Marvel heroes and villains alike.

“Jack, we’re in a sort of predicament right now,” mused the vampire.

He turned around to face Jack, eyes glancing over him. It wasn’t a sponge gaze this time – only a glance and just that. Then his eyes rested on the leftmost wall, where Jack only had more pictures of heroes and villains.

“As of now, there’s absolutely no reason for me to not kill Zev. You’ve hurt yourself, you’ve escaped, you’ve tried to scream, you hadn’t warned me about what this house does to you… and you won’t tell me anything about Jonathan Harker or your family. You haven’t even mentioned the Reckoning to me directly.”

Jack sighed through his nose, setting his head back onto the pillow and closing his eyes. He only had a headache now, and it pulsed dimly behind his eyes. “Please don’t kill him.”

“Then you’re going to have to start talking, won’t you? I’m done with secrets, Jack. It’s been fun, but when you nearly die because you can’t tell me something, I can’t just brush it off like I’ve been. I need you to talk to me.”

The slight loudness to Dracula’s voice only made the pulsing in Jack’s head louder, and he scrunched his eyes shut to block out any light that could possibly be seeping into his gaze. “It hurts.”

“I don’t c…” Dracula swore under his breath. Silence followed briefly, before, “What do you need?”

“Tylenol,” Jack mumbled.

“Stay there,” snapped the vampire.

It was only a second that he was gone, digging through the medicine cabinet, Jack could assume, for the Tylenol. And then he returned.

The familiar sound of someone struggling to open a child-proof bottle rang in Jack’s ears and it was very, very difficult to not grin. Sure, the vampire was malicious and evil and everything under the umbrella term of ‘bad,’ but he was also a little ignorant of the world. Dumb. In an almost charming way.

 _Almost._ Underlined, bolded, and italicized ‘almost,’ because there wasn’t a bone in Jack’s body that would ever like anything about Dracula enough to call him truly charming.

“You’ve got to line up the arrows.”

“What arrows?”

“The ones on the bottle and the lid.”

“There aren’t arrows.”

“Yes, there-“

“I found them,” griped the vampire, and the lid popped off. “How many?”

“Three.”

“It says an adult should have two.”

“I know.”

“Jack-“

“I’m literally a doctor,” snapped the boy, opening his eyes enough to glare at the vampire through his eyelashes. “Give me three or I might as well die.”

Dracula scoffed, but tapped out three and took one of Jack’s hands in his own, palm up, and set them into it. It was the unharmed hand, as the other Jack could feel was still bloody. The blood felt like mud caked under his nails.

Jack took the pills without water. Then he let out a sigh, bringing up his hands and putting his wrists over his eyes. Everything hurt.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” Dracula whispered. He was close now – probably right beside Jack’s bed in the chair – leaning over him. Probably with the sponge gaze.

The headache wouldn’t go away for a while, but neither, most likely, would Dracula. So Jack spoke softly.

“The house… screams sometimes.”

“How can you hear it?” asked the vampire, not even letting Jack get two sentences out.

Eyes narrowed, Jack peered at him through his eyelashes again. Dracula sighed and closed his mouth, and Jack closed his eyes.

“You can’t kill Zev if I tell you.”

“That’s the whole deal.”

Jack sighed through his nose again, then continued, “When Mina got turned by a vampire from your castle, she was able to give her memories to my great grandmother, her daughter. She was… angry and wanted revenge so badly that she made her daughter, when she was eighteen, swear to continue the… family legacy… Which was killing vampires.”

Jack took in a shaky breath, hating the story. Hated how it affected his life. “To prepare her for killing vampires – you, specifically – Mina had her daughter kill her once she’d given her her memories. It started a tradition that… I call the Reckoning.”

 _The Reckoning_. What a punch to the gut.

Literally.

“Mina’s daughter was so mad that vampires made her kill her mother and had killed her father that she sought out to be turned into a vampire herself so that she could pass her memories onto her children as well. That started the Reckoning.”

“What is the Reckoning?”

Jack sighed, clenching his jaw. “It’s where… when one of our family turns eighteen, their parents force themselves to get bitten by a vampire. Then we have to… to kill our parents. Once they’re vampires, we…” Jack bit his lip, hesitant to finish. When a thumb traced Jack’s bottom lip, he let go, and continued, “We have to take their memories and kill them again.”

“So why are you in the Box? And why does the house scream?”

“The Box? The one that Jonathan was in.”

Dracula was quiet for a second, and then he whispered, “You have his memories, too?”

“I have everyone’s. That’s why the house is so loud.”

Another round of silence. Dracula soon enough scoffed. “I’m impressed, Jack. Keeping all of this inside of you for years… why didn’t you kill your parents?”

A sharp inhale followed, and Jack squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they would go. “I did kill them. They’re dead.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. Why haven’t you killed them _twice_?”

Jack shook his head, feeling the crying lump in his throat. He wanted to disappear. To cave in on himself at the memory of what he’d done to his parents. “I did kill them,” he whispered again. “I killed them.”

“Jack.”

“I killed my parents.”

“They weren’t nice to you, though, were they?”

All Jack could do was let out a stifled sob, though his throat burned.

No, they hadn’t been nice at all. They’d called it training, but all it had been was spontaneous attacks, kidnaps, things that didn’t make sense and things that _hurt_ , but his parents were so sure Jack would be the one to kill Dracula.

And here he was, damn near sobbing in front of him.

“So why couldn’t you tell me?” mused the vampire.

Jack sniffed, shaking his head. “Because I can’t kill you.”

“Well, do you want to?”

“Of course I do,” seethed Jack. It came out before he could stop it, and the words hung in the air like a low fog. Slowly, Jack uncovered his eyes and looked to the vampire, tears rolling down his cheeks.

He didn’t know if he meant it or not.

Not because he cared about the vampire, but because killing his parents the first time had been so, so awful…

Dracula didn’t look too fazed. He only looked at Jack with an almost emotionless glance before he shrugged. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I killed your father again. And your mother is in the police’s custody, probably ratting me out.”

Jack blinked out tears, hastily scrubbing at his eyes. He sat up. “What? You… You what?”

“Killed your father. Staked him through the heart. Zev called the police on me, though. Must have known I was coming here. They took your mother.”

There was no way to take the news properly. On one hand, Jack felt his heart sink at the idea that his father was gone. But at the same time, something was lifted off of his chest. A whole fifty-pound weight.

His father had been worse than his mom when it came to training. His mother had always had a sliver of hope that it wouldn’t be on Jack’s life to kill Dracula. But she had participated in it, surely.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

The idea of a shower felt similar to heaven under his circumstances. He let out a shaky breath, eager for only a moment of free, clean, separation from the vampire. Just enough time for him to scrub his body raw and shampoo and condition his hair at least twenty times to get the scent of him completely out.

Hell, he’d even consider using bleach on his skin if it meant getting the idea of the vampire off him.

“Don’t worry, Jack, I know you’re weak,” said the vampire in a tone that actually meant ‘I’m just doing this to hurt you’. “I’ll be there to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Jack muttered, narrowing his eyes.

“Mm, well, that’s what I thought, too. But then you went and got yourself hurt.”

It dawned on Jack too slowly, and he scoffed in very quiet disbelief. “You’re punishing me for running?”

“And it’s only the beginning, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! sorry for the crazy long wait, i've started moving rooms and it's taken up far too much of my time 
> 
> is there something you want to see in the story? a scenario or smthn? lmk :)
> 
> i have an idea for where i want the story to go, but there are plenty of ways to implement a crazy number of different subplots/scenarios/things, so i'll most likely take any suggestions as long as it's not too, too, too weird...
> 
> i will admit, i'm not particularly a smut writer, but... would you guys want that? idfk
> 
> just tell me ur feelings lol plz and thx


	9. Automysophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Automysophobia - the fear of being dirty

Unfortunately – for Jack, that was – Dracula was good at making people like him. Granted, it hadn’t worked all that well with Jonathan, as he’d ended up throwing himself off a building instead of being around him, and it also hadn’t worked with Agatha, as she’d burned him and tried to bury him under the sea forever, and even so far it hadn’t worked in the slightest with Jack since the boy still wanted to kill him, but Dracula had hope that this time things could be differently.

The first step, Dracula knew, was mutual respect. Of which he had plenty for the boy, but it wasn’t returned, and so this little gig would hopefully give them enough time to implement some.

‘This little gig’ being Dracula giving Jack a bath. Similar to the instance in which Jesus himself had washed people’s feet, and they _worshipped_ the man. Certainly, Dracula could achieve a similar arrangement.

Although the word ‘mutual’ respect didn’t particularly align with that, did it? Did Jesus respect his followers?

Well, the bigger, broader question, was if he’d ever actually be able to achieve any semblance of respect from Jack Seward.

“Do you need help getting to the bathroom?” Dracula asked Jack, looking the groggy boy over.

Frankly, he looked as though he’d been hit by a bus. Dark, dark circles rimmed his eyes to show off just how little sleep he’d been getting as well as how pale he was, and his eyes were bloodshot as they stared at the ceiling.

He looked like a skeleton and Dracula really didn’t enjoy that. They would just have to work on it.

“I’m not going to bathe if you’re in there,” Jack said. His voice wavered, as it always did, but it was very clear he was trying to keep a firm tone.

It was absolutely adorable. As it always was.

“I’d argue you don’t have a choice, Jackie.”

“And I’d argue-“ Jack began, but the fight died in his throat. He let out a slow sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. “I’m s… I’m sorry for running, Dracula.”

Dracula scoffed, going quiet as he looked Jack over. There were words sitting on the tip of his tongue, questions of why he ran, questions of how he’d even managed it in his weak state, but he bit his lip and pondered saying it or not. He decided against it because the answer was obvious.

He rubbed a hand over his face. The words ‘mutual respect’ played through his head over and over until he grumbled, “Fine. Fine.”

Jack paused, bright, bright blue eyes scanning Dracula.

 _Just look me in the eyes_ , the vampire wanted to say. He stared at Jack, waiting for the other to glance into his eyes, but there was nothing but an absent gaze at Dracula’s shirt.

“What’s the catch?” asked the boy.

“The catch?” mused Dracula. He hadn’t thought to have one, but maybe there should be. It clicked after a second and he acknowledged it with a grin. “Dinner. With me.”

Jack was quiet in reply, glancing down to his hands in thought. Contemplation cast him into silence before he cleared his throat, looking, as usual, anywhere but at the vampire. “Alright.”

Something similar only to butterflies erupted in Dracula’s stomach and he grinned, clicking his tongue admiringly to the boy. “Lovely. So, do you need help to the bathroom?”

“No,” whispered Jack.

He pushed himself upright, bracing his jaw in pain as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. No doubt, his head was killing him. Dracula could practically taste the pain in the air like bug spray or gasoline. And more than anything, he wanted to help the boy get up. But when he moved to assist him, and Jack gave him a piercing glare that felt like a laser, he stepped back and watched instead.

Jack got up with effort before managing to push himself to his feet with the help of the wall. However, within seconds of being stood up, his face went a ghostly pale and his knees gave out.

The vampire was at him in seconds, holding him under the arms and pressing him against his body.

“Don’t touch me,” Jack seethed, one hand trying to press against the wall. “I can do this myself.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Dracula teased. He was tempted to keep holding the boy close, but when Jack began pushing him away, he let go and stepped back. “Why don’t you want my help? Clearly, you need it.”

“I don’t need it.”

Dracula opened his mouth to reply, but then he stopped. Because Jack Seward was one of a kind and of course this was something Dracula found incredibly attractive. Despite how tiny the boy was, despite how fragile or nervous or damaged he was, he was still strong and could hold his ground when he wanted to.

It blew Dracula’s mind how complex Jack was. There was nothing he wanted more than to delve into his head and pick it apart until he knew everything the boy had to offer.

But that was for dinner.

For now, the vampire stepped back and grinned to Jack. “That’s fine.”

Jack hesitated before nodding and gently pushing himself off the wall, coming to stand up straight. Dracula had read the bottle on the Tylenol, and it should start kicking in in about ten minutes. Until then, he would have to watch Jack suffer, which was a strangely uncomfortable thing to do.

Usually, he didn’t mind it, but now, seeing something so lovely feel so awful… He didn’t like it at all.

But he sat back and watched Jack grab clothes from his dresser – which still probably fit him, considering how skinny he was – and clamber his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Well, now all Dracula had to do was wait. Which couldn’t be that difficult, could it? No, he could snoop around Jack’s room and find some things hinting as to who the boy was or what he did for fun. But all that was on the wall were people in fancy or silly costumes with lasers coming out of their eyes.

It didn’t strike Dracula’s interest in the slightest. He let out a slow sigh and rolled his eyes, glancing further around the room until he found a card. It had a puppy on the front, along with ‘get well soon’ written on it.

He opened it to find Lucy’s familiar writing style written in it.

_Dear Jack,_

_Last night was really fun!! Come over some time again~_

_Love,_

_Lucy_

_(P.S., I’ve only told Zev about our time together. Who are you going to tell?)_

_(P.S.S., I know you’re not sick but this was the only card my mum had)_

Dracula clenched his jaw in frustration. ‘Last night was really fun.’ He felt bitter at the thought of what she and Jack had done, or even the sort of relationship they’d had. And the memory of that dumb, stupid, pathetic human _Zev_ who had called the police on him so cleverly…

No, he wasn’t clever. He was dumb.

And frustrating.

And Dracula really wanted to just strangle him until there was nothing left of him for Jack to even think about, but there wasn’t a reason for Dracula to do it. Jack had apologized…

Oh, but what fun was that? It didn’t change the fact that he’d run away. And he’d hurt himself. And he hadn’t told Dracula about the house for a while, or even the thing with Jonathan.

So what was _keeping_ Dracula from killing Zev?

Absolutely nothing.

The smell of blood startled Dracula, making him straightened his back and put the card down. He turned to the direction of the bathroom and the scent became stronger. There was no denying that it was Jack’s blood.

Without hesitation, Dracula began taking steps towards the bathroom and put his hand on the door handle.

But then he stopped.

Jack had wanted to be alone. So was it really a bright idea to walk in on him bathing? Without permission?

Dracula didn’t _need_ permission. Jack was his, after all. It wasn’t like he needed permission to help him or anything. And what in the world did it matter? Jack could have been bleeding out.

But then again-

“Dracula?” called Jack.

Needless to say, Dracula could hardly bite back a grin as he opened the door, raising an eyebrow.

The sight before him was like ecstasy.

Jack was seated in the tub, wet and nude, with his knees drawn up to his chest. His hair was only slightly wet, drooping around his temples like a weeping willow tree. His bright blue eyes – which were looking _right_ at Dracula - contrasted greatly against not only the white of the tub but also the brilliant red dripping from his nose.

One of Jack’s hands was rested under his nose, covered in his own blood.

 _This_ was a sight to behold. This was a sight that clarified with Dracula that he would do anything for the boy to protect him, anything to keep him as _his_. Because that’s the only way things needed to be.

Everything that was Jack was absolutely, unarguably perfect.

And it wasn’t just the blood.

“My nose,” whispered Jack.

Dracula didn’t say anything now. There were words he wanted to hear, and he could feel that Jack knew them, so he waited.

Jack bit his lip, getting blood on his teeth. Then he cleared his throat, mumbling, “Could you please help?”

“Yes, Jack,” Dracula hummed. He stepped inside, pulling the stool from the corner up to the side of the bath. “What do you need, a tissue?”

The boy sucked in a shaky breath, looking hesitant to answer. He shook his head, looking to the side. “I don’t think I can… wash myself. I-I’m really light-headed.”

“So say it.”

Jack swallowed dryly, a motion that showed off his neck so vividly that Dracula suddenly wanted the bath to be over so they could have dinner. He needed it. But he had to wait, of course, because Jack needed to be clean.

It wasn’t that Dracula particularly cared but considering how Jack’s sheets and clothes and room in its entirety smelled like bleach, he could very well and easily assume Jack was a very clean boy. It was only fair that he let him bathe.

“Will you… please help me?” Jack asked. His voice sounded like a sheepish rabbit.

Or something of the like, at least.

“Of course,” Dracula grinned.

He pulled up his sleeves and leaned down to grab the loofa from Jack’s hand, but he paused, glancing over to realize he was absolutely centimeters from the boy’s face.

Jack’s hand was just about pressed to Dracula’s nose and he was able to take a big inhale of the boy’s blood. It still wasn’t unique – after all, no one’s blood just suddenly tasted different – but it smelled so, so interesting. It smelled like Jack was – well, it smelled like he was a jigsaw puzzle.

And it was a bad idea, really, considering how much Jack hated him, but he couldn’t help himself.

Dracula leaned forward slowly until he opened his mouth and dragged his tongue, as slowly as he could, along Jack’s index finger. The blood tasted as it always did, but Dracula could taste the memories in it.

The boy didn’t so much as flinch. He only stared at Dracula – yes, right into his eyes, that’s where they needed to be – with a look of what was almost trust.

 _Almost_.

There was also a hint of fear.

It didn’t quite deter Dracula, as he continued to slowly lick the blood from Jack’s finger until the boy slowly… slowly… nervously extended the finger until it was closer to Dracula’s mouth.

Ignoring the rising excitement in his stomach, Dracula took Jack’s finger into his mouth and worked his tongue around it until he couldn’t taste any more blood. Still, he stayed, gentle as a fawn, with Jack’s finger in his mouth. He didn’t want to move in the slightest. He just wanted to stay there, looking up at Jack, with Jack looking down at him, until-

The boy pulled back, taking his finger out of the vampire’s mouth.

Dracula lingered only for a second before pulling back as well, taking the loofa from the boy’s hand. He sniffed, perhaps to make things less awkward – he could feel it in Jack’s unhealthily tense posture – and said, “Your skin is incredibly red.”

Mostly the boy’s back and shoulders, though Dracula couldn’t see his stomach to know, were red. He could only assume it was from the heat of the water, but it soon dawned on him that it was actually from Jack rubbing the soap into his skin.

Probably like a mad man. That would probably be the most fitting adjective to describe someone who would clean themselves to nearly blood.

“What do the humans call the disorder these days?” Dracula asked. “OCD?”

Jack looked to the opposite wall away from Dracula. Taking that as a yes, the vampire began to scrub at Jack as gently as possible. There was no doubt that his rashes hurt. It probably burned to be scrubbed at more, which brought him pause.

“Why are you still cleaning yourself? You smell like, what is this…” He read the label of the soap Jack was using. It was simply labeled ‘clean,’ which brought up many more questions, but he stuck to the ones surrounding Jack. “Clean? This whole bathroom smells like clean. I bet it’s… I don’t know, embedded under your skin.”

“So?”

Once again, Dracula was brought to pause. ‘So?’ The answer was obvious.

“So you’re clean, Jack.”

The boy scoffed in teary-eyed disbelief before holding up his bloody hand. “This isn’t clean.” He pointed with an equally red, violently scrubbed hand to his bloody chin, nose, and lips. “This isn’t clean. I-I’m not clean.”

“I’d love to know how much soap you go through a week,” Dracula mused. Then he sighed through his nose, reaching down and wiping the blood on Jack’s lip away with his thumb. “See? You’re clean now.”

Jack shook his head, holding up his bloody hand. “No, I’m not. I can’t be.”

Dracula wasn’t quite sure what the issue was, but he had a wobbly solution. “Alright, fine,” he concluded. “Fine. You’re not clean. Get out and I’ll finish cleaning you up.”

“What?” Jack asked, seemingly breathless.

“Get out and get dressed,” Dracula said. “I’m not going to say it again. I’ll meet you in your room.”

Without another word, Dracula got up and left the bathroom. He went to Jack’s room and, after little searching, he found what he was looking for: a nail pick and a soft cloth. The only reason he knew what he needed was because Lucy used one frequently, and her memories were surfacing a bit more around Jack.

When the boy came out, he was clad in a thin, wool, gray sweater that hung on him like a wet leaf, and sweatpants. The blood was still on his chin, lips, nose, and hand. It was clear that he was actively avoiding looking at himself, as he walked out with his chin lifted, practically closing his eyes.

No matter how strong Jack acted, he was vulnerable. It was amazing to see how fragile he really was, and how interesting even his problems were.

Dracula sat down on Jack’s bed and scooted back, then patted his lap. “Come on.”

Jack’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he examined the scene before him. Then, slowly, he approached the bed and sat down facing the vampire. Again, he didn’t look at him, but when Dracula reached out to grab his hips he did. His eyes had panic in them, but Dracula only turned the boy around so that Jack’s back was to his chest, and he took the bloody hand in his own.

This was perhaps the only time Jack didn’t squirm or radiate uncomfortableness when Dracula was touching him. Well, other than when the vampire had been sucking on his finger, but that was another story. Now, though, the boy remained absolutely still – relaxed, even – as Dracula began to pick the blood from under his nails, with his chin rested on the boy’s shoulder.

The first time Dracula went to pull away from the boy’s hand, Jack made a strange whine in his throat that was clearly a plea for him to continue. So the vampire did.

After ten minutes, the boy didn’t protest when Dracula pulled away. Then he turned Jack around again and went about cleaning off his face. The whole time, Jack only looked down at his hands.

Finally, when he was done, and Jack’s skin wasn’t quite as red, Dracula pulled away. He was a little tired, strangely, but seeing Jack’s little grin made it all go away.

“Do you feel better, then, Jack?” asked the vampire.

Struggling to smother a smile, Jack whispered, “Yes, thank you.”

“Mm… Jack?”

Without any prompting, pleasantly, Jack lifted his eyes and looked Dracula right in the eyes. It wasn’t a glare. Nor was it quite a trusting gaze. It was more of just a… well, a thankful look. “Y-Yes,” he repeated. “Thank you.”

“You look lovely when you smile,” Dracula said.

Unfortunately, that caused the boy to look back down at his hands. Fortunately, his smile became a little bigger and a blush spread to his cheeks.

“Alright,” the vampire said, standing up from the bed. “It’s time for dinner, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so obviously I'm not doing so hot at staying on a consistent schedule, but the least I can do is promise that I'll be uploading, from here on out, on even number days lol
> 
> anyway, plz comment... that makes me really happy. like... how was ur day? how are u feeling? how's ur dog? or u could tell me what u wanna see from dracula or jack in the future ;)
> 
> thank u. 
> 
> have an excellent day


	10. Theophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theophobia - the fear of God

There wasn’t much left in the cabinets. Jack had been gone and his parents had been dead in the basement for forty-three days, so what was left was bad. And if it wasn’t, it looked anything but appetizing.

Or, so Jack said. The boy sat at the very high table in the corner of the room, by a window. Three equally tall chairs surrounded it, overlooking the now pitch-black outside. It was probably a nice seating place, but right now it just looked dreary. Well, except for the fact that Jack was sat there, looking out at the nothing. Dracula could see his reflection in the window. His eyes were contemplative and quiet, neck still fiery red from scrubbing so violently.

“You do need to eat, right?” Dracula murmured.

“I’m not particularly hungry.”

“So yes,” Dracula growled. He scratched at his chin in thought, glancing over the things in the pantry. He hardly knew how to cook anything – well, no, scratch that, he didn’t know how to cook anything. Lucy and the other man’s memories gave him little to nothing and the very little of Jack’s blood he’d gotten also gave him nothing regarding cooking.

“Do you know how to cook?” asked Dracula, turning to the boy.

Jack glanced over to him, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I know how to cook,” he told the vampire.

“Would you mind cooking, then? Because I’ve been under the ocean for a few years and it’s clear that… the way people do things has changed. You know, back in my days, this thing that just _makes fire_ didn’t exist.”

“The oven, you mean?”

Dracula glanced at the white box on the ground before nodding. Sure, ‘oven.’ That sounded about right. It made little to no sense, described nothing about the object, but still made sense to everyone else. Similar to the word ‘laptop,’ which described equally zilch about the object, but everyone still knew what it was.

Reluctantly, Jack got off the chair and glanced past Dracula into the pantry until he apparently found nothing, because he said, “I’ll just eat the burger you brought.”

“It’s got to be cold by now. Or are you going to use the… the oven?” asked Dracula. He really did want to see how it worked. Only faint pieces of the man’s memories gave him insight into what it did, and that was create fire, but he was eager to see how.

“No.”

“You’re going to eat it cold?”

“No.”

The one-word responses were getting a little edgy, but Dracula remained undeterred. “Is there another fire device?”

“There’s a few. We call this one-“ Jack pointed to a silver box- “a microwave.”

“Why?” Dracula asked, scoffing in disbelief. “There’s nothing micro or wavy about it.”

Jack gave him a peering, contemplative look, in which Dracula soaked it up, but then he looked away and grabbed the bag off the table. He took the burger out of the bag, unwrapped it, then put it in the microwave and typed in a few numbers.

The microwave then lit up. It emitted a sort of humming noise that briefly made Dracula tense, but after it didn’t explode or cause anyone harm, he relaxed and watched the hamburger whirl around in the box like a swirled glass of blood. Otherwise, there was no comparison. It was otherworldly.

“How does it work?” Dracula asked.

“It’s complicated.”

The vampire scoffed, standing up straight and narrowing his eyes at the boy. “I could understand it.”

Jack hugged his arms around his waist, looking at the ground. Then he cleared his throat, rolling his eyes and looking to the side. “Do you know what electricity is?”

The answer was a hesitant yes, but Dracula said, confidently, “Yes.”

“Electromagnetic radiation?”

“A-Absolutely.”

“Polar molecules.”

“Y… Yes.”

“Detoxication of the hemoglobin.”

Dracula huffed. “Now you’re just making up words.”

At this, Jack cracked a very small smile, looking back to the microwave. “You caught me.”

The very sound of Jack talking through a grin was perhaps better than the realization that Dracula could stand in the sun. In fact, it was better than the realization that everything he’d been doing his whole life was for nothing.

Seeing Jack smile was the closest thing Dracula would ever get to heaven.

Speaking of which…

“Do you think I can die, Jack?”

“Everything can die.” Jack’s blue eyes slid over to Dracula. “As long as they were alive.”

The vague wording had Dracula a bit uncomfortable, but he let it go and cleared his throat, considering how he’d continue his question. “How do you think I can die, then? Other than a stake to the heart, you know… That’s obvious. But what else could kill me?”

Again, Jack’s gaze was like an icicle. “We can try a few things.”

‘We.’ What a nice word.

Well, it wasn’t a nice word, was it?

“Come on, Jack,” Dracula grumbled. “Do you really want to kill me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Jack warned. The microwave beeped, and he took the burger out of it. His emotionless gaze switched to Dracula again, silent and peering deep into what was left of Dracula’s soul. If anything.

The sheer idea of Dracula tempting Jack-

 _Stop_ , Dracula told himself. _Different thoughts_.

The boy went back to the table, sitting down on one of the chairs and looking out the window again. He set the burger in front of him, but he didn’t touch it and only focused on the outside.

Dracula followed him, ignoring the slight irritation that was coming from Jack’s silent avoidance. Something had gotten into him so quickly and he wanted to figure it out, but that was going to be difficult with the boy being so quiet.

So the vampire decided to make the first move.

“I was in the war,” Dracula offered. It brought no reaction from Jack, so he continued. “So was my entire family. And… well, they died.”

Jack ran a hand over his face in quiet disdain. “Why are you telling me this?”

Dracula continued, “Once the war ended, I had my… my condition. It wasn’t hard to figure out that I needed blood to survive, so I moved out in the middle of nowhere for the benefit of everyone.”

The boy only sighed in response, beginning to eat the burger.

Refusing to give up at opening the boy up, Dracula continued still. “People would stop by to visit and I started making up these stories about where the people went. I guess I didn’t particularly need them because absolutely everyone knew they came to die. There wasn’t another explanation, do you know what I mean?”

Still, Jack ignored him.

“Everything sort of went casual and normal until Jonathan Harker. You know, I was used to the people dying and then coming back to life and dying and then putting them in my basement and then – I mean, what have you, I was used to it. But when Jonathan Harker came along, he was… dare I say, he was the most selfless soul I’d met in three hundred-some-odd years. Which is saying something.”

Jack seemed a little interested now. His blue eyes were at least in Dracula’s direction as he chewed silently, eyebrows narrowed in some sort of irritation or masked interest. Both, most likely.

“Once he died, and I got to see how lively he was, I _really_ enjoyed him. What an interesting man to come alive so quickly, hm? He would have been a fantastic bride. But then he jumped off a cliff and went to the nunnery.”

“I know this story,” Jack interrupted. “After he died. What happened with you and Agatha?”

He’d managed to pique the boy’s interest. Struggling to keep down a prideful grin, Dracula set his elbows on the table and propped a cheek on one of his palms. Now he was able to really just gaze at Jack as he spoke because the boy was so interested that he was looking at Dracula.

Not in the eyes, granted, but around the torso area. It was _almost_ the same thing.

“Once Johnny died, Agatha gave her life for Mina. She ended up giving herself to me. While I drank from her blood, I brought her onto a ship. And on that ship, she was considered severely ill, so no one dared go into her chamber. Meanwhile, I managed to kill half the crew by the time they’d come to their senses that something was happening.”

“Half?” Jack scoffed quietly.

“Half,” Dracula repeated, grinning slyly. “They tried to hang Agatha, then, because I’d let them believe that she was the monster killing everyone. _My_ story was that who else would manage to get away with it? You know, because no one would _suspect_ her. They believed me and tried to hang her, but Agatha Van Helsing was a smart one. Because she convinced them that I was a vampire.”

Jack’s eyes were wide now, looking right into Dracula’s as he told the story. _This_ was what he wanted. What he needed, more like. It felt like euphoria to have the boy looking at him so intensely.

“And before they were about to kill me, I kicked the bucket under her and ran.”

“Did she survive that?” Jack whispered, genuinely sounding worried. This was well over one hundred years ago and Jack was acting like it was his own aunt who’d done it yesterday.

Absolutely adorable.

“Mm, yes, of course. But I’d gotten away. I went downstairs, where I met a doctor and his daughter, as well as a boy who had an infatuation with me. He thought I needed him.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jack asked.

“He wasn’t worth anything. Sure, he was… attractive, I guess, but he had no value to me. So I killed him.”

“What?” Jack scoffed. His voice was still quiet as always, but now it sounded like it at least had emotion. “Why?”

“Because, Jack, I told you. He was worthless to me. Anyway. After I killed him and drank from him, I found a few more loose ends around the deck. Agatha had actually been smart and created a circle from Bible pages she got from the captain’s chamber. It ended up not quite worrying. Anyway, after, Agatha – smart, cunning, clever Agatha – devised a plan with the captain to burn the whole thing to the ocean floor. I knew that, though, and the second he was gone from her – he told her he was going to get off the ship – I decided to kill the captain and take his skin. I thought I’d won.”

Jack grinned now, just a little. “But you hadn’t.”

“Not a bit. See, I’d left the captain alive. Silly as I was, I was messy and clumsy, and he managed to get all the way to the gun powder and he blew the ship to nothing.”

The boy scoffed, eyes widening. “ _He_ blew it up?”

“Yes! The captain was the one to take his own ship down,” Dracula snickered, grinning as well. “And then Agatha died, and I went under the ocean. And, well… you know the rest.”

“Yeah,” Jack said breathlessly, sitting back in his chair. He looked down at his empty plate, debating his words, then he whispered, “Agatha still beat you in the end.”

“What? How’s that? She’s not alive.”

“You didn’t even try the circle, did you?”

“Didn’t… no, I didn’t try to go past the circle. It was made of Bible pages.”

“Which have no effect on you.”

“Oh, come on. I didn’t know that 123 years ago.”

“She believed in your addiction to your fetishes. She knew it would hold you back, and… that’s why she used a fake Bible.”

“Fake?” scoffed Dracula, sitting back. “No, they weren’t fake. It was the Bible.”

Jack shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. There’s no way it could’ve been.”

“How’s that?” Dracula mused.

“Sailors didn’t carry Bibles. They weren’t required to, so they didn’t, because most sailors around that area weren't Christians. In fact, most of them believed in mythology. Greek gods that ruled the sea.” Jack leaned back, shrugging. “Agatha knew before Zoe. Agatha knew before anyone. And she knew you were listening, and that’s why the captain said he had one after he paused. Because he didn’t have one.”

Dracula swallowed dryly. Jack Seward – _Jack Seward_ – had managed to figure it out. He hadn’t even thought about it, but Agatha really had known. She’d put everyone’s life at risk just for the sake of her silly experiments with Dracula’s life.

“She was stupid.”

“She was clever,” Jack said.

The only thing Dracula felt at will to do was roll his eyes. Then he motioned to Jack, sitting back in his chair and sighing quietly. “Alright, I’ve told you my story. Tell me yours.”

“I did.”

“No, I told you my whole story, Jack. You told me about your family’s own fetishes.”

Jack licked his lips, looking hesitant as he looked Dracula over. Then he ran a hand through his hair and brought his gaze down to the table. It didn’t take long for him to start talking. “I, uh… When I was seven, my mum and dad started training me. They would wake me up in the middle of the night, try to stab me or hit me… I got good at fighting back and thinking ahead.”

Dracula decided to stay quiet for this story.

“In secondary school, I met Lucy. She was… She was really nice.”

“Couldn’t have been that great to you,” Dracula mumbled. “She said yes to some ‘Quincey.’ She knew you were in love with her.”

Instead of answering him, Jack continued. “Lucy helped me get through my whole… parent thing. Zev and I talked some, too. Zev was nice.”

The boy didn’t know how to tell a story too well.

“When I was eighteen, my parents told me to kill them. My whole life, I knew I’d have to do it. And… I-I was almost excited to, considering how they’d treated me. But they… I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.”

“But you did,” Dracula prompted.

“Mum approached me. She had the knife in her hand, and she was… walking really fast. Her eyes were – she was looking me right in the eyes. She wouldn’t stop. And… then she pointed the knife towards her heart, put the handle in my hand… a-and she _shoved herself_ onto it. Looking at me. When I only stood there, Dad… he did it, too.”

Jack swallowed dryly again, blinking rapidly. Probably trying to get the image out of his head.

It made sense to Dracula then, though. Jack’s eye contact problem. It had originated from his parents forcing him to murder them while staring at him like idiots. Oh, how he wished he hadn’t killed Jack’s father. Just so he could do it again and again and again differently.

But his mother was still out there.

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to kill them again, so I locked them in the basement. And then I went to Dr. Helsing’s. I was already a doctor, but Dr. Helsing got me a job and showed me life was still…” Jack’s voice broke and he rolled his eyes as if to make his emotions invalid. “Life was still worth living.”

Dracula bit his lip, contemplating how to react. He looked Jack over. Now the boy sat hunched over the table, arms on it, hands clasping the opposite elbows. His head hung, hair spilling in front of him.

“So why did you join the Jonathan Harker foundation if your parents knew it was about keeping me alive and studying me? Their plan had been to kill me.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Their infatuation bypassed the law. They thought that if I was at least in the area, in the facility… I could kill you.”

Dracula pondered it, then he scoffed. “Mina didn’t start the foundation for studying me, did she?”

“Of course she didn’t. You’d killed her fiancé. Took the only person she considered a friend away. Slaughtered women of God in front of her. She didn’t want to study you, Dracula. She wanted to kill you.”

They’d both discovered silly things, then. But at least now he had Jack, the only person who perhaps had a shot at killing him, and he was in control of him.

 _Respect, Dracula_ , he told himself.

“Well, I think it’s my dinner time,” Dracula stated.

After a moment’s pause, Jack nodded. He got off the chair and put his plate in the sink, washing his hands with steaming hot water.

Dracula had to flip the water off before the boy made himself bleed, watching steam rise from his hands. It was interesting to watch, but also slightly painful, knowing it must have been quite hot.

Jack glanced up to Dracula, only for a second, before he perhaps wasn’t sure what to do because he began fiddling with his hands. Maybe he felt awkward.

In response, Dracula decided to not waste a second, and he clenched his fists into Jack’s sweater and pulled him closer. The boy let out a weak gasp, setting his hands on Dracula’s chest, but gradually he tilted his head to the side.

Exposing an almost untouched neck to the vampire.

He leaned down, inhaling the boy’s ‘clean’ scent. But further, he inhaled the smell of his blood. Which still was nothing special, but Dracula knew it had so many good thoughts and memories and information that would be a trip.

Was Jack’s blood a drug, perhaps?

Casting the thought aside for later, Dracula bit into the boy’s neck, allowing the warm, red liquid to seep down his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the weird and wildly unrealistic history of sailors on Jack's behalf - I just wanted him to be a very smart bean to sort of even the playing fields and make him more comfortable in Dracula's presence


	11. Technophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technophobia - the fear of technology

Dracula didn’t send Jack anywhere else this time. No matter how badly Jack wanted to be somewhere else, even if Dracula created it, he wasn’t gifted the ability to be separate from this moment.

That was, Dracula drinking his blood. That was, standing chest-to-chest with him, being able to smell his cologne mixed with the smell of blood, being able to _feel_ the teeth in his neck but not feel the pain from it.

It was supposed to be a pint, wasn’t it? And it was supposed to hurt, wasn’t it? Jack wasn’t supposed to want this to continue.

Was he?

Free of his own will, his hands trailed to Dracula’s shirt collar and clenched, holding him closer, while the vampire kept him close by holding him around the waist. It was a possessive hold – Jack knew what it felt like, as sometimes he’d done it to Lucy around Quincey because he hadn’t been thinking – but he didn’t care. Not now, at least.

It could’ve possibly been a drug; that was, getting his blood drawn. He knew it was just the euphoric, dizzy effect that losing blood had on an individual. But Jack couldn’t help but think it was Dracula himself giving him this… absolutely wonderful feeling.

_Don’t be daft,_ he told himself.

He pushed the thought down, ignoring the seeping irritation in his gut at the idea that he’d entertained it for a second. Rather, he waited until Dracula was done, and once he’d cleaned and healed the wound, Jack stumbled back and blinked until his vision righted itself. But the floor started dipping under his feet and the walls caved in and out.

“You’re probably a little dizzy,” Dracula mused. “I suppose we should go to bed.”

“I don’t suppose you brought a coffin.”

Dracula grinned thoughtfully. “Don’t suppose I need it, do we?”

“My parents’ room is to the left of mine, then.”

At this, Dracula clicked his tongue. “Oh. Interesting.”

His tone told Jack everything he needed to know, and he narrowed his eyes up at the vampire with every ounce of defiance he could muster. It wasn’t much, though, considering how tired and dizzy he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“I don’t think you’ve got much of an option, do you, Jack Seward?” Dracula said, looking the boy over with his peering eyes. “I bet I could tip you over with a finger.”

Feeling bitter and impulsive, Jack looked right up at the vampire and growled, “Try me.”

Dracula momentarily looked taken aback, until he scoffed and shook his head. “You’re impossible. Come on, we’re going to bed.”

“I said I’m not sleeping with you.”

But the vampire wasn’t listening. Rather, he scooped Jack up in strong, resilient arms, and held him bride-style, carrying him to his room. Jack wanted to writhe. He wanted to scream and squirm until the man had no other option but to drop him. But he could hardly move, and he was still dizzy. So Jack stayed still and set his head back, staring at the ceiling as he was carried.

Soon enough, he was laid down in his bed. It was hard to not instantly close his eyes, but not too hard, because he knew the vampire was still hovering over him.

Childishly, Jack moved his leg to take up the rest of his bed. It was a twin-sized bed, after all, and it wasn’t difficult to take up a majority of the room by moving just slightly. Once he felt his foot hang off the bed, he stopped, and then he looked up at Dracula and waited.

The vampire took in the situation, musing silently as he stared Jack right in the eyes. Then he clicked his tongue. “You haven’t won, Jack. But I suppose since you’ve had… quite a day, I’ll let you off this one time. You owe me, though.”

“I gave you my blood,” countered Jack.

“And I gave you a hamburger.”

_Well_.

Dracula grinned slyly, perhaps realizing he’d won that one. Without another word, he swooped down and planted a gentle yet firm kiss on Jack’s forehead. Leaning back, he looked the boy over once more, before whispering, “I’ll see you in the morning, Jack Seward.”

And then he left Jack alone.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, but in the time between sleep and dreams, he was sure it might have been the most peaceful time of his life.

His body’s alarm clock woke him up at two in the morning for a glass of water. He swallowed dryly, sitting up and glancing around. Briefly, he was caught off guard by the room he was in, until he remembered his situation and sighed, rubbing his face.

Maybe he should have been nicer to the vampire.

Except everything in his mind – _literally_ – told him otherwise.

Pushing his covers aside, Jack got up tiredly and walked carefully to his door. He’d figured out the quietest places to walk since he’d woken his parents up once. They’d attacked him then and he nearly lost a finger. Now, he walked silently all the time, but mostly and most importantly at night.

The living room was dark, but he knew the house well enough that he was able to navigate to the kitchen without light. However, there was one light, and that was the light from the landline.

Jack swallowed dryly.

Slowly, he approached it and traced a finger down the cool plastic of the phone. The red light flashed, indicating he had a voice mail. But really, he must have had a dozen. His fingers wrapped around the phone with a mind of their own and held it to his ear, pressing the voicemail button.

“Hey, Jack?” said Lucy’s voice.

Jack breathed out silently, feeling his chest clench.

“I think your phone died… but I left my charger at your house, so I was wondering if we could meet up? You can come over to my house or something and we can watch some scary movie. Ooh, how about _Vampire Dia-_ “

Jack pressed the button for the next one.

“Hello, there! Just calling to check up on you because you weren’t in class today and you’re not answering your phone. Um… Zev and I are going to a party tonight. So if you’re not sick, we’d love to have you there. Love you.”

Numbly, Jack listened to the line beeping, signaling the voice mail was over.

_Zev_.

Pulling the phone from his ear, Jack began typing in what he remembered of Zev’s number. He was good at remembering things, like people’s numbers, but he hadn’t seen the boy’s enough to know it by heart. However, he put in what he thought was it, and put the phone to his ear.

It rung.

And it rung.

And it rung some more.

And then it clicked.

“Hello?” asked a groggy voice.

Zev’s voice.

Jack licked his lips, briefly stunned into silence. This was his out. This was how he was going to win against Dracula. He opened his mouth, but nothing formed. He had no idea how to start this conversation.

“Um… it’s the middle of the night… I’m going to hang u-“

“N-No,” Jack whispered, holding the phone closer to his ear. “Zev? Z-Zev, it’s… it’s- it’s Jack.”

Quiet static came from the other side, and Jack worried he’d hung up. But then, “Are you calling from a landline?”

“I – yes. Sorry.”

Another pause. “Has Dracula kidnapped you? Is that why you won’t answer your phone?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” More silence. Then, “Oh, oh shit. Um… do you need me to pick you up? O-Of course you do. Where are you? Here, tell me your address and I’ll come get-“

“No!” Jack said, far too loudly, and he looked behind himself nervously. No one was there, so he cupped the phone to his ear and continued in a whisper, “Don’t come here. He wants to kill you. Just call someone from the office or something and get them to come here.”

“What about the cops?”

“He’s a vampire, Zev.”

“And?”

“Guns – Zev, what are the police going to do? Shoot him until he cries?”

“Oh, true. True, true… Okay, I’ll call someone from the office. Are you – did he take you to your house?”

Jack hummed shakily in response. “Yeah.”

“They found your mum there, you know. In the… the basement. Did you know…. Did you know about that, Jack?”

Running a hand through his hair, Jack bit his lip and considered how to respond. “Can we talk about that later? I don’t want to be here.”

“Well, neither did she, I bet.”

“Zev.”

The other boy snorted. “I know. Alright… go back to bed, I’ll call the office and get someone to go over there. Soon, alright?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. In, like, a second.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

Jack didn’t particularly want to hang up. After all, Zev was the only thing that seemed safe in this house. And even that wasn’t for certain, since Dracula could kill him any time he liked.

“Jack?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I can’t call them until we’ve hung up.”

He was quiet, then, until he mumbled, “I don’t want to hang up.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Zev giggled. “But come on. You’ll be safe soon.”

“Zev-“

“Jack?”

The voice wasn’t Zev’s, and Jack slammed the phone down with hands like a tremor. Turning, he found Dracula, and Jack slammed his hips into the counter to get away from him, blocking his face with his hands. It was instinctive, and it probably looked pathetic, but he couldn’t think.

A strong hand gripped his wrists, pulling them down, and another gripped his chin and forced Jack to look the vampire in the eyes. Already, he was crying, and he wanted to just go back to sleep.

“What did you do?” Dracula whispered. He didn’t care, though. It was clear enough.

Unluckily for Dracula, lies came easily to Jack. They had to with parents like his. “I-I’m sorry, I was listening to Lucy’s v-v-voicemails, I-I-I-“

“You were what?”

“I-I was… I was listening to her voice… her voicemails.”

It wasn’t a lie at all, really. Not a full one, at least.

“What’s a voicemail?”

Oh, thank God. This wasn’t going to be hard at all.

“I-It’s a, um… wh-when someone doesn’t… when someone doesn’t answer the phone, they can leave – they can leave a message? L-Like… saying what they wanted to say. T-To you.”

“And she left you some?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“What?”

“Let’s hear the messages, Jack. Come on, show me them. I’d love to hear them. You must know you’re not the only one who’s missing her.”

Jack looked Dracula over quietly, wondering if perhaps he was telling the truth about it all. But the cold, emotionless look in his eyes said everything Jack needed to know. The vampire didn’t care about Lucy. He just wanted to know what she’d said to Jack, or if Jack was telling the truth.

He picked up the phone again, hands shaking as he pressed the voicemail button. Then he held up the phone between them and listened to the next voicemail.

“Jack? You’re probably asleep, and that’s why you didn’t answer your phone, but… well, listen, I’ve been thinking about you a lot tonight. Quincey was a dick and I realized… I want you, Jack. You’re so much better than him. You’re real. I-“

“Turn it off.”

Jack’s eyes flashed up to the vampire.

Before he could move to touch the phone again, Dracula grabbed it and squeezed until it fell apart at their feet. Jack looked down at what had been his savior, but would now be useless. He’d used up his save card. Now it was gone.

“You were her second choice, Jack,” Dracula whispered. “But that isn’t how it should work.”

Biting his lip, Jack looked up at Dracula, who was looking down at him with the sponge gaze again. Jack sucked in a shaky breath when the vampire reached down to stroke his thumb across Jack’s bottom lip.

“She said yes to Quincey. They were going to get married, Jack. She was going to… to have his children and get divorced and crawl back to you once you were a rich, successful doctor. And you would have accepted her, wouldn’t you?”

Jack couldn’t reply.

“She lowered your standards, Jack. Everyone did. Do you understand what they did to you?”

He didn’t.

“She made you believe you were allowed to be someone’s second choice. Your parents made you believe you weren’t worth a normal life. And Helsing… well, she fucked you over, didn’t she? Left you with me.”

Tears brimmed in Jack’s eyes. He tried to lean away from Dracula’s finger, but the vampire’s grip turned tight and iron, forcing him to stay still and stare into his eyes. It was too intense. Jack wanted to disappear forever, to just sink into the floor or stop existing.

“I know better, though.”

The vampire was slow, still, and he slipped his finger into Jack’s mouth until his thumb was against Jack’s tongue. His gaze was too intense. It was prying. Peering. A sponge.

It didn’t last long, though, as Dracula soon took his hand away and stepped back. “Go to bed. And stop worrying about Lucy, Jack, she’s… well, she’s dead. You killed her, after all.”

Jack watched the vampire leave, going back to the couch he’d been sleeping on. How could Jack have been so dumb as to talk on the phone like he had? He’d gotten away with it, though… But for how long would he be able to last until he broke?

He just had to hope people from the office came soon.

Taking in a deep breath, Jack went back to his room.

He couldn’t tell if the dryness in his mouth was from Dracula or the fact that he hadn’t even gotten a glass of water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update took so long! i got an idea for another story and got soooo distracted. anyway, plz enjoy! and comment plz
> 
> ily and thanks for reading so so so much


	12. Somniphobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somniphobia - the fear of sleep

If there was such a thing as sleeping with one and a half eyes open, Jack was doing it. He wouldn’t much consider what he was doing to be sleeping at all, even, and would rather consider it to be a sort of stage N.5 sleep, in which the body hardly recognized what the word ‘sleep’ was, but was too tired to not feel it.

He wanted to sleep, but he also didn’t, and so he stared blearily up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Nothing would bring him into a deeper sleep. Nothing but being alone – _really_ alone, with nothing but his computer and something to do. Something sciencey. Something he didn’t have to feel any emotions about, but something that was okay and safe.

This was certainly not that. In fact, this was far from it.

The only thing to pry him from his twitchy, N.5 sleep was the flash of headlights through his window. Within seconds, Jack ripped himself from the bed and nearly collapsed into the window, pulling the curtain back to find a car in the driveway.

It was Dr. White, from the office. He was getting a case from the back seat, and when he opened it, he pulled out –

Oh, no.

He pulled out _garlic_. And a _crucifix._

“I’m fucked,” Jack breathed, feeling his body tingle with numb panic. “I’m so fucking fucked, why the fuck did I think I should call Zev? God, I’m such an idiot – oh, fuck. He’s going to die. I’m going to die. I’m so, so fucking fucked. I’ve fucked us both.”

“You know,” hummed a voice that Jack had very well forgotten. He glanced to the corner of the room to find Jonathan Harker, sitting at Jack’s desk, smiling affectionally. “You’re not exactly a damsel in distress, Jack.”

Jack scoffed at him, glancing back to Dr. White, who was getting out of his car now. “Yes, I am. Yes. Yes, I am.” Jack ran a hand down his face, beginning to pace. He shook his head. “I can’t let him come in here.”

“Dracula is going to hear anything you do. He’s already on edge after you’d woken him up, so there’s no way he isn’t going to find out about Dr. White soon.”

“I can’t just let him die.”

Jonathan snorted emotionlessly, looking tired now as he examined Jack’s trembling figure. “I know that, Jack. You and I share that in common… selflessness. So you know what you have to do, don’t you?”

“What? No. No I don’t.” It was getting difficult to breathe, and Jack wrapped his hand around his throat lightly. It was a technique Dr. Helsing had taught him – if he could feel his own pulse, he could level his breathing with it. It helped only slightly, but mostly just made him want to scream.

“Your parents didn’t torture you for eighteen years for nothing.”

The implication was obvious. “I can’t hurt him,” he whined. “I can’t hurt Dracula.”

“So you’d rather Dr. White die?”

“I don’t want anyone to die, Jonathan,” Jack growled. “There must be another way.”

“Hm… how about you beg Dracula? Maybe he’ll only kill Dr. White a little bit, then. In front of you. Just to show you not to, you know, go behind his back and try to run from him for a second time.”

Jonathan was a little more sarcastic than Jack had originally thought.

But he was right. There wasn’t an alternative – it was either Jack fight off Dracula, or Dr. White would die. There wasn’t an in-between.

His decision was made for him when the front door opened, and Jack knew the vampire heard it even more loudly than Jack had.

Taking in a shaky breath, Jack opened his door and edged out. Dracula stood there, facing the front door, looking partially amused and partially enraged. It was beyond Jack how someone managed to show so many emotions and yet so little, but the vampire did it very well.

“You weren’t listening to Lucy’s voicemails, were you, Jack?” Dracula whispered.

“Rule 1,” Jonathan said to Jack, standing beside him now, “know your surroundings.”

“Check,” Jack breathed.

“You’re bent on more than just her,” Dracula continued. “You’re hung up on the idea that things can go back to the way they were before me.”

“Rule 2,” Jonathan whispered. “Have a weapon.”

His parents had been entranced by the idea of secret compartments. They had trap doors in the walls and the floors, even little baskets under the table and furniture that would aid a vampire hunter at the moment.

Subconsciously, Jack’s left hand slammed into the wall. It revealed a square, which twirled until its opposite side showed. There was a wrist crossbow with six arrows in a tiny quiver that latched around one’s arm.

“Check,” Jack mumbled, slowly putting the crossbow on so as not to alert the vampire, who still stared at Dr. White. The doctor was frozen, holding the crucifix up in the air. But Jack could feel that he knew it wouldn’t do anything.

“Rule 3. Aim to kill,” Jonathan finished.

Jack swallowed, clicking the straps together on the quiver that rested on his arm now.

The tips were laced with cancerous blood. It wouldn’t kill Dracula, but it would hurt him. If only Jack could get a shot in. But certainly, six arrows would be enough to at least stop him, if he made _one_.

Impulsively, Jack loaded an arrow into the crossbow and fired right at the vampire’s head. It would be easy to get a shot while he was distract-

Easily, Dracula caught the arrow. His dead gaze turned to it, examining it, before glancing down to the blood on the tip. Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “You think things are going to be the same again? You think killing me is going to change anything for your life, Jack?”

The vampire hurled the arrow with impeccable, blind aim, and it landed with a _shink_ into Dr. White’s gut. It was tiny, though, and would hardly do much damage. The fact that it was cancerous meant nothing to the human body, thankfully.

Still, it couldn’t have felt nice.

“Jack!” snapped Dracula, and the boy looked up at him in panic. “Look at me. _Listen_ to me. You’re being idiotic right now. But if you set the arrows down, we can talk about it and maybe I won’t have to kill this man, hm? Just set the arrows down.”

“I won’t,” Jack spat.

As the vampire began to approach him, Jack knew if he started backing up, he’d be between Dracula and three walls. So he ducked forward, rolling to the side, and landing about five feet away from the vampire. However, his body wasn’t used to it, and he groaned at the pain that blossomed at his neck.

Instantly, Dracula lunged for him, but Jack shot the arrow at the now open body.

The arrow didn’t land only because the vampire managed to avoid it, but the momentum he’d gained caused him to collapse to the left.

Jack took the opportunity and pushed himself to his feet, loading his crossbow as he ran for the door. There, the doctor was clutching at his wounded stomach, gasping in pain. Jack bit his lip and yanked the arrow out of the doctor, dropping it to the ground.

Footsteps told Jack the vampire was close, and he lifted his arm, aiming the crossbow at him, penetrating him with a glare that he was sure was the most eye contact Dracula had gotten out of him the whole time. It was intense even for Jack, and he loosened his gaze.

“This doesn’t have to be like this,” Jack pleaded. “Just let me leave.”

“Why?” Dracula scoffed. “So you can go back to the people who made you their second choice?”

“At least I was one of their choices,” Jack argued. “At least Dr. Helsing saw something in me that mattered to her. Lucy did, too. That means something to me.”

“It shouldn’t,” Dracula countered. He shook his head, looking almost disgusted by Jack’s low standards. “You’re my first choice, Jack.”

“After Jonathan Harker?” Jack growled. “What, after – a-after Lucy Westenra? After Dr. Helsing and Sister Agatha? I’m not your first choice, Dracula! I’m not _anyone’s_ first choice. But at least with the office, I’m higher than number _four_. At least they want the things I know and what I can do for them. You just want my blood and Jonathan.”

Jack pushed Dr. White, forcing him to go back outside while he continued to aim the crossbow at Dracula, who remained speechless. As the door opened, Jack could hear the rain that was pounding against the ground.

He went to follow Dr. White, but the vampire spoke up again. “You can’t leave, Dr. Seward. I won’t let you.”

“Try me.”

And again, the vampire lunged for him. Jack stumbled back, into the outside. Rain began to pummel his skin and he tried _very_ hard to push down the fact that he was no longer clean, that the rain was washing the cleanliness right off his body, but it was a distracting thought, and it allowed Dracula to tackle him to the ground.

To the _mud_.

“Let me go!” Jack screamed.

The mud was soaking into his shirt, his pants, into his socks that dug into it as he writhed under the beast. The rain blocked his vision, making it outrageously difficult to land a solid punch to the vampire. But he managed to lift his knee between the man’s legs, and he wheezed, loosening his grip.

Jack crawled out from under him, stumbling to his feet and firing the crossbow at Dracula’s hunched figure. He managed to roll out of the way, pulling himself up until they were once again facing each other on their feet.

It wasn’t until they were catching their breath – or, Jack was, but Dracula was only staring and not breathing – that Jack felt a warmer substance drip down his cheek.

Blood. Dracula had scratched him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Jack,” Dracula said. He spread his arms, shouting to be heard over the rain. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone for you.”

“ _For_ me?” Jack scoffed, loading another arrow. He only had three left. “You didn’t have to hurt anyone.”

“To _keep_ you, Jack. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt in order to just… keep you.”

_Keep you._

Jack didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about the fact that commitment was the thing that made Lucy a terrible person, that made Jack her second choice and made _being_ her second choice sting like acid on an open wound.

 _Keep you_.

The thing that made his parents so disgusting, because they didn’t want to keep _Jack_ , they wanted to keep traditions. And if that meant losing any sort of connection with their son, they were fine with that.

 _Keep you_.

The thing that made Jack so replaceable at his work. Because he was just another mind, another doctor.

 _Keep you_.

Something Dracula was trying to do because he wanted _Jack_.

“Jack!” yelled Doctor White.

Just in time, Jack was able to stumble out of the way of Dracula, who tried to grab him. The mud made Jack lose his footing, though, and he very nearly collapsed to the ground again. However, the vampire’s arms were around his waist, holding him there, looking at him earnestly.

There was a single moment in which time stopped, and they only looked at each other.

Jack was the only thing Dracula could see. The single, sole thing that Dracula was thinking about, focusing on, looking at.

 _His first choice_.

But it didn’t matter. Not after everything he’d put his family through.

So Jack fired the crossbow again, and Dracula disappeared into dust, causing Jack to fall to the ground.

It knocked the breath out of him. He was left staring up at the night sky, rain blocking his vision, heaving for what little air could fill his lungs. It felt impossible to get any, though, through the rain.

The vampire leaned over him as he gasped for air. “We don’t have to keep fighting, Jack. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you kidnapped me twice,” Jack spat, grabbing an arrow with what was left of his energy.

Dracula placed his foot on the crossbow, his heel digging into Jack’s arm as he pressed… pressed… until the crossbow snapped, falling off Jack’s wrist uselessly.

“Fuck,” Jack breathed.

“Yes,” Dracula grinned to him, but not in a condescending way. He was _admiring_ Jack. “Fuck. I don’t like this either. But we can heal from this, Jack. We can… forget this happened at all. Just come back inside. Please.”

Jack shook his head briskly, planting a hand in the mud to push himself to his feet, but the vampire easily pushed him back down with a hand to his chest.

They were quiet as Dracula only stared at Jack. Then his hand slid up Jack’s chest until it was wrapped around his neck. Not clenching quite yet, but just resting there. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise of what was going to happen.

“I’m not going to kill you, Jack, I’m going to tell you now. But you’re being difficult, and I don’t think – well, I’m tired, and I can see you are, too. I think we could both just use a rest.”

He was going to choke Jack until he fell unconscious.

 _Fuck_ , Jack thought for what was probably the twentieth time that day.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. But there was nothing else Jack could do to fight back or retaliate. All he could do was let Dracula begin to squeeze… until he stopped.

And he hiccupped.

And then he collapsed to his side.

Standing in his place like a guardian angel was Zev, a bloody arrow in hand. He was trembling, panting nervously as he looked over Dracula’s hunched form, now vomiting blood.

“Is he dying?” Zev asked.

“No,” Jack breathed. Catching his breath, he shook his head again, pushing himself to his feet shakily.

“Damn i-“

Jack fell into a hug with Zev, holding him as close as humanly possible. As close as either of their bodies would allow, hugging him because Zev truly was a guardian angel. He took in the clean, dry – though it was fading – scent of Zev.

Chuckling, Zev hugged him back.

“I told you to stay home,” Jack said, not knowing what else to say.

“A ‘thank you’ would work fine,” Zev retorted before he and Jack let go, and he looked Jack over. “But I guess it works just fine knowing I _saved your life_.”

Jack hesitated before cracking a grin, wiping the blood from his cheek. He glanced over to Dracula, who was still coughing up blood, and he turned back to Zev. “We need to go now.”

“Right.”

Zev had parked his car, very smartly, a block down. The walk was difficult, as Jack was covered in rain and mud, and he thought about it the whole way there. Zev must have noticed, because he offered Jack his raincoat – which was pink. Jack declined, knowing it would only make his current mental state worse.

Shivering, Jack got into Zev’s car. He was stiff with his movements – taking his shirt off, setting it on the floor, taking a cloth that Zev offered, wiping his face and arms off. Everything was stiff. Nervous.

“Hey,” Zev whispered, putting a hand on Jack’s arm.

The contact was startling. Jack glanced over to him, senses going haywire as his body decided Zev was a threat. But the kind, almost scared, gentle look in Zev’s eyes made him relax just slightly.

“You’re in my car. Mine. Not his, not yours… Mine. And we’re going home. You’re going to take a shower or whatever you want to do, and then we’re going to sleep. For a long, long time. And you’re – hey, Jack, you’re going to be safe. Alright?”

Jack let out a breath.

He didn’t know if he’d be able to sleep tonight, but the word rung in his head like a bell.

_Safe._

Zev’s house was different than Jack had imagined. It had larger than life windows that spanned across the entire living room, and a giant furnace that lit the house up with a fake fire that still emitted warmth.

His shower had a plethora of soaps. Jack was tempted to use all of them, but his exhaustion kept him from it. He scrubbed his body until the hot water stung, and then he scrubbed a little more. Once his arms were exhausted, he got out of the shower and dried off.

Zev had left a pale green sweatshirt with his college symbol on it as well as sweatpants and boxers. He put them on slowly, his body aching just slightly.

The bathroom was connected to Zev’s room. Jack was able to walk out and nearly stumble to the bed, setting his back against the headrest and pulling his legs to his chest.

His mind was blank.

Zev came in with two cups of tea after he took a shower, too.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Rather, Zev pulled one leg over Jack’s hip and sat down slowly. Jack lowered his legs down flat so that Zev was straddling him.

They didn’t say anything.

They didn’t need to.

The other boy leaned down and pressed his lips gently, tentatively against Jack’s. It took only a few numb seconds for Jack to reciprocate, moving his lips against the other's. Hands rested on Jack’s shoulders, slid up to his neck, slid up to his cheeks until they were tangled in his hair.

Jack closed his eyes, kissing Zev with his hands loosely around the boy’s waist.

It felt beautiful.

It felt like what he needed.

They kissed for hours. Hands didn’t go anywhere, clothes didn’t move. They just kissed and breathed and existed together, and Jack knew it didn’t mean anything.

It was just both of them avoiding sleep, basking in the idea that both of them were safe tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so ya'll know, i'm writing these in word under the file name 'jacula' 
> 
> anyway, this chapter REALLY got me going and it was so so so so so fun to write  
> plz plz plz comment!! i'd love to hear your thoughts! ur comments make me so happy and i smile when i see them  
> thank u thank u for reading
> 
> i am high
> 
> have a great day/night
> 
> (alsooo i just got a job (yaaaaay charlieeee) so i'm just gonna say 'fuck it' to a regular or even remotely planned updating schedule and update as frequently as i can. plz be patient ily thx)


	13. Xenophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xenophobia - the fear of strangers/different people

Dracula wasn’t dumb. He knew exactly where Jack had gone, with whom, and, well, why. And he wasn’t dumb in the sense that he also knew not to follow him, because at this point, Jack would be impossible to reason with.

But Dracula had seen it. He’d seen that Jack _wanted_ him. The hesitation when Dracula had said he wanted to keep him, the hesitation when he’d realized that Dracula really, truly wanted him. Jack wanted that.

And Dracula was more than happy to provide it.

The next morning, after Dracula had heaved his guts out, he lay on Jack’s couch, staring at the ceiling, waiting for something. Part of him wanted to check Jack’s room, just to see if last night had been a dream. He really, really wanted it to be a dream. But he knew it wasn’t.

Still, he checked anyway, and when he inevitably found the boy’s room empty, he set his jaw and wondered what to do next. Surely, it would be logical to go after the boy, but… also, would it, though? He wanted to.

Yes, he wanted to.

Dracula pulled on a turtleneck and coat, heading out for the busy city.

There were more of Jack’s memories in his head now. More-so now of just his past. Where he came from, what his parents did to him, and, unfortunately, Lucy. She was perhaps the last thing Dracula needed in the moment.

The uncomfortable memories that Dracula was able to view in third person felt like nightmares, and as he stood in the middle of the street, he found himself caught in one.

The world around him faded like collapsing mirrors, revealing a dark room with lots of windows that illuminated the city at midnight from a nearly bird’s-eye perspective.

Jack entered the room, clumsy and nervous but smiling like an idiot. He was clad in a tuxedo that highlighted his very slim form.

“Jack!” exclaimed Lucy, practically dancing in behind him. “You’ve graduated! Mr. PhD-having-ass. I’m so happy for you!”

He snickered nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. His blue eyes, glowing, looked back at her. His eyes looked her up and down, examining her, and she noticed, because she scoffed and grinned excitedly.

“Does somebody want a _prize_ for graduating? Hm, Jack?”

“What?” he asked, looking back up at her eyes. “N-No, I’m sorry, I just… your dress is very beautiful. It’s very shiny.”

She clicked her tongue, putting her hands behind her as if to show off more of herself. “Come on, Jack… you just graduated from fucking _medical school_. Don’t you want to celebrate? It doesn’t have to mean anything, we can just…” She took a hand and trailed it down his arm, and Dracula could see chills rise on his skin.

Jack licked his lips, shifting a little. “You think I deserve something like that?”

“For graduating?” she giggled, pushing him back gently.

Dracula watched with a dry mouth as Jack stumbled back onto the bed, catching himself on his elbows and staring up at Lucy. She straddled him, and _she_ got eye contact. Hungry, eager eye contact from Jack. Nearly unblinking.

“I think you deserve to have a really good night, Jack.”

The vampire scoffed and blinked, looking to the side instead. There, he could see clothing get thrown to the floor. But he blinked again, and everything was gone.

He was in the street again, staring at moving traffic.

Right. Jack.

The scene replayed in his mind over and over again. Consistently, he considered Lucy getting the eye contact that Dracula so hungrily craved – the fact that Jack looked at her like she was the only thing in the world to ever exist, the only thing he could ever care about. What had she done to deserve it? What had she done for Jack that gave her that sort of privilege?

Even Zev seemed to have that advantage over him.

It wasn’t difficult finding the boy’s house. In fact, Dracula was so focused on Jack’s scent that it wasn’t hard at all to navigate his way through the streets until he found his way to Zev’s apartment building. It was beautiful, but Dracula would never admit it.

Here, Jack’s scent was strong, but it was a little different. It smelled closer to Zev’s cologne and shampoo than anything else.

The idea of what that meant made Dracula want to vomit.

Mindlessly, he strolled into the lobby and glanced around. There wasn’t a lot to look at from the outside, which was fine. Good, even. Zev wasn’t _that_ fancy. He did manage to find the receptionist, though, who was a man clad in a tuxedo.

He tossed Dracula a thin-lipped smile, raising an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?”

The man looked like he definitely didn’t belong in such a pristine building. Tattoos crawled up his arms and neck, and his hair was pulled back into black dreadlocks that looked like he got them in prison. His eyes were black, looking into Dracula with less emotion than seemed possible for someone with a soul.

“Zev,” Dracula mumbled. He didn’t know the boy’s last name, which was fine. No matter what, he’d get what he wanted from this man. “What apartment does he live in and may I have a key?”

“Um, are you a relative?” the man asked in monotone.

‘Markus’ was etched onto the man’s name tag.

“No, I want to kill him,” Dracula said very blatantly. He raised an eyebrow. “Can I have the key or not?”

Markus snickered, looking Dracula over like he was crazy. Which it probably did sound crazy, but Dracula was just in that sort of mood where he was willing to do anything he needed to to get what he wanted. And now, he was willing to fight this man – though it wouldn’t be hard – to kill Zev.

“No, sir, you can’t have the key. You can go fu-“

Dracula reached across the counter and yanked hard enough for the man to lose his balance. He sank his teeth into the man’s neck, faintly tasting the ink but mostly just tasting the disgusting, uncomfortable memories that the man had in prison. They rested on his tongue, and though Dracula was only slightly hungry, he leaned back and spat it out.

“What the hell?” Markus spat, collapsing back and resting a hand over the now bloody wound. “You freak!”

“Oh, you’ve done worse, Markus, shut up. Now get me the key.”

Dracula spat out blood to the side, watching with discomfort as the toxins began to affect the man, practically visibly coursing through his veins.

Markus snickered, licking the blood off of his finger in an overly sexual manner. Dracula found it very, very uncomfortable. Even more-so when the man whispered, “That was pretty hot, dude. Yeah, I’ll get you the key.”

It wasn’t the sort of situation Dracula wanted, but this sort of devotion was what he needed. Not that he wanted someone calling him hot – unless it was Jack, of course.

The key was dropped into his hand not long after.

“Come with me. I might need an extra set of hands.”

Void of hesitation, Markus rounded the counter and began following Dracula to the elevator. The ride in which was incredibly uncomfortable, with Markus eyeing him inconspicuously from the other side of the elevator. His eyes were like lasers, bearing into Dracula’s skin with heat and passion.

Dracula snapped a glare to the man, covering it with a sarcastic smile. “I’m taken, _Markus_. I only need you for your strength.”

“Taken?” Markus scoffed. “What, by the Zev kid? You know he brings guys up at least once a week.”

“By wh-“ Dracula rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to slit the man’s throat for that comment alone. It wouldn’t be hard or painful – for Dracula, at least. “No. God, no. He’s a nuisance. No, by the other boy with him… You did see a boy follow him up the stairs, right?”

Markus leaned against the wall of the elevator, almost temptingly like. But there was nothing appealing about the burly man putting his hips out like an inexperienced stripper. In fact, Dracula would say it had the opposite effect.

“Yeah,” the man mumbled. “He was shirtless, muddy… wet. They were both wet. Really, really wet. And they were, like, making eye-“

“Enough,” Dracula spat. “Just quit, hm? I don’t care.”

“Seems like you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Mm, seems like you do, though.”

“Shut up. I really don’t.”

Markus only rolled his eyes and stood up straight when the elevator reached the top floor. Here, Dracula stepped out. The apartment hall was long, white, and gold. There was hardly anything appealing about this that Jack would like, surely. The boy was used to blues.

 _Because suddenly you know everything about him?_ hummed a voice in his head.

A nasty one.

Dracula unlocked Zev’s door without really thinking. Maybe he should have considered making an entrance, but there was no time to consider anything because the _stench_ of Zev and Jack’s scents mixing were worthy of vomit, and Dracula wanted to waste no time in it.

In the apartment, there was another door that held the strongest scent. Taking long strides, Dracula approached the door and opened it. Markus was close in tow.

And there, in the middle of the room, on the bed, was Jack and Zev.

The vampire felt as if he’d walked in on something he shouldn’t have and, well, he had. But he was _supposed_ to be here. For Jack.

The boy was laying under Zev, with the boy sleeping against his chest, hugging him.

It would look cute if it wasn’t also repulsive.

Jack wasn’t asleep, though. He was looking up at the ceiling with the most tired eyes Dracula had ever seen. When the door opened, his gaze slowly… slowly dripped down to the vampire.

And he did nothing.

He didn’t look startled or scared or confused or even mildly uncomfortable. He only made eye contact until his eyes flicked to the ceiling again, uncaring. “You’re not real,” he whispered.

The boy’s lips were swollen.

“Get up,” Dracula growled.

“You’re not real,” Jack repeated.

“I said, get up.”

“There’s no way you’re real.”

Dracula took three steps to the bed. His hands latched onto Zev’s collar and flung him back. No doubt, it woke the boy up, but the vampire only had eyes for Jack Seward, who now looked at Dracula with those still tired eyes. The exhaustion seemed to dull the blueness.

The vampire wanted nothing more than to wrap him in a blanket and send him off to bed, but now there were more pressing matters, like firstly getting him home.

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Zev seethed. He was groggy, having probably only slept a few hours, and the dark circles showed up like deep shadows under his eyes. “Don’t you fucking touch him.”

Well, now Dracula had two options. Take Jack home or prioritize getting rid of Zev, because as of late, he’d only been a complete pain in the ass. Almost literally, except he’d stabbed him in the _arm_ with the arrow.

Which didn’t help the point that Zev was, in fact, a complete and utter pain in the ass that Dracula would be more than happy to get rid of. But by himself. Not with Jack there, not with the idiot Markus there. Just the two of them, with Dracula telling him _exactly_ why what he’d done was the wrong thing.

“Take Jack to your house,” Dracula instructed Markus, waving nonchalantly to the two of them. “Touch him wrongly and I will kill you.”

“Hey,” Jack slurred. He pressed his back into the headboard as if that would put enough distance between him and Markus to deter him. “D-Don’t.”

“Did you even sleep last night?” Dracula asked him. He examined him and was oddly pleased to find his hair was hardly even tousled. Perhaps they hadn’t gone too far. But the mere idea that Zev had been sitting on Jack’s lap left him bitter as it was.

There was a hesitance to Jack’s answer, but he soon murmured, “No.”

“Jack,” Dracula growled.

“What?” Jack countered. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

At this point, Zev had managed to get between him and Dracula. Now he stood there like a knight in black, greasy, rusted armor, carrying a dull sword with holes in it. Dracula could hardly fight the urge to kick his rib cage in then and there.

But he had to wait. Because then Jack would _never_ sleep.

“You’re not leaving with him,” Zev said. “I’ll put another fucking arrow in you if I have to.”

Oh, right. Jack still had the case of the arrows from last night.

However, at the sound of that – that was, the sound of Zev threatening to put an arrow in Dracula – the vampire was pleasantly surprised to hear a sharp inhale come from Jack.

That couldn’t possibly mean… no, there wasn’t a way. Not yet. Not after last night.

 _You’re overthinking it,_ growled Agatha in Dracula’s head. _He’s just breathing._

“Markus,” Dracula said.

The man didn’t hesitate. Perhaps the infatuation wasn’t a bad thing. Perhaps.

Markus took broad steps towards Zev and easily plucked him from the ground and hurled him to the side like he was nothing, then reached out to grab Jack. The boy fumbled back into the bed, crawling to get away from him, but Markus was tall and had very long arms. It wasn’t hard for him to pull Jack’s hoodie collar back, yanking him to his feet off the bed.

Zev clambered to his feet, going to run towards Jack, but Dracula grabbed him by the neck and pressed until the boy was gasping for air.

“Stop!” Jack cried, struggling to get out of Markus’ death grip. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard of a grip, because otherwise Dracula would have killed him then and there, but it was enough to keep him planted. “Stop hurting him!”

“He’s the one that’s been the problem,” Dracula countered. He held Zev up like a rag doll. “He’s the one that’s made our situation impossible.”

“No, he was just helping me,” Jack said. His voice went back to the gentle whisper that it always was now that tears were in his eyes.

Almost instinctively, Dracula let the boy go. He collapsed to the ground as a pile of – unfortunately – breathing limbs. Zev propped himself up against the leg of the bed, panting and rubbing his throat. Dracula longed for him to stop moving, to stop _being a problem._ But Jack came first.

“Was it painful for you?” Dracula asked, the question suddenly pushing itself to the front of his mind. He didn’t know how to properly form the question, though, so he went quiet and pondered. Finally, he whispered, “Was it… painful for you to watch me get hurt?”

Jack swallowed dryly, looking the vampire over with those blue eyes. _Looking him over_. Examining him. Looking at him – really looking. Thinking.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Zev growled. He pushed himself to his feet shakily, glaring right at Dracula. “The only thing painful about last night was you cutting him and trying to choke him out.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Dracula defended. As if he needed to defend himself to Zev.

No, he didn’t.

He was saying this for Jack.

They met eyes again.

“Jack, I didn’t want to hurt you last night.”

“You did.”

Well. That was one way to reply.

There was always the counter of, ‘Well, Jack, you _were_ trying to impale me with a poisoned arrow,’ but that wouldn’t be fair, because Jack did have a reason to leave.

Dracula just hadn’t wanted him to.

“I’m not going with you,” Jack finished. “And you can’t kill Zev. I won’t let you.”

Dracula sighed through his nose. “We can talk about this later. Markus, get him home.”

Jack’s eyes went wide as the man hoisted him in the air and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Jack was probably as light as one.

“Don’t mishandle him,” Dracula reiterated. “If he says you did, you’ll be dead.”

“Hypocritical son of a bitch,” growled Markus, beginning to carry the writhing Jack down the stairs and out.

Zev stayed. He looked right at Dracula with deadly eyes that said, ‘I really, really want to kill you,’ and Dracula knew he was looking back at him with those same eyes. There was hardly anything Dracula wanted to do more in this moment than kill Zev.

To just throw him out of the picture forever.

But that wasn’t an option.

“Jack can’t love you,” Zev growled.

Dracula shrugged. “Can’t is a strong word.”

“Really, he can’t,” Zev continued, taking a few steps back. Dracula didn’t follow – he only watched quietly, waiting. “It’s literally written in his DNA to hate vampires. He can’t change.”

“Everyone can change,” Dracula muttered, crossing his arms. “Besides, what do you know about his DNA? At best, you have a PhD in, what, fashion?”

Zev rolled his eyes. “Interior design.”

“Same thing.”

“I beg your pardon,” Zev hissed. “And I do know quite a bit about Jack’s DNA. I’ve had it in my-“

“ _You_ shut the hell up,” Dracula hissed – more like boomed, as his voice was louder than he’d intended. It shook the walls of the apartment, sending a full mug of tea to the floor. “Jack doesn’t _want_ you.”

“I know he doesn’t.”

Dracula raised an eyebrow. What a dumb thing to say.

“But at least I fucking know that. At least I know that he’s too good for me. You know, you and Lucy have that in common.”

Dracula swallowed dryly, watching as Zev continued to back up. There was no where for him to go, no matter how far he went, because he was only walking himself into a corner. Dracula wasn’t even following.

“I don’t have anything in common with Lucy Westenra,” Dracula spat.

“You do,” countered Zev. “You really fucking do, _Count Dracula_. Neither of you knew that Jack was too good for either of you.”

Zev then slammed his hand against the wall.

And although it seemed like nothing happened, an announcement came over the room. “London Police Department have been notified and will arrive in two minutes. Please hold.”

Dracula could only scoff out in disbelief. He’d missed _that_. He’d had the upper-hand and he’d used it to ramble.

“I will get you, Zev. I really will. There will be a time where the police can’t help you.”

“Bye, Dracula.”

“Fuck you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes i am posting this fifteen minutes before midnight, what the fuck is sleep
> 
> thanks for being patient though
> 
> i loooove having a job
> 
> sike
> 
> plz comment ily ily


	14. Scelerophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scelerophobia - the fear of crime

Dracula managed to escape before the police arrived, wanting nothing more than to strangle Zev the entire time he walked right out through the doors. The stupid boy had had enough outs at this point that it would only be fair for Dracula to have the advantage once, but he’d have to wait it out. Until then, he could prioritize Jack.

Just as it wasn’t difficult to find Jack when he was at Zev’s, it wasn’t difficult to find him when he was at Markus’s. The man didn’t live far from the apartment building he worked at, so it was relatively easy to smell the two out to a dingy house closer to the grosser part of town.

His house was beat-up and messy on the outside. The inside was only slightly better – Dracula let himself in – with orange curtains and an orange carpet that accented the wooden walls and floor. Though it smelled strongly of smoke, Dracula assumed it could’ve been worse, but the tables were clean of needles of whatnot.

From there, Dracula heard panicked shouts, and he easily found Jack in the bathroom, laying in the bathtub.

Markus was bent over the boy in the bathtub, a hand gripping his hair in an iron-tight grip. The boy’s eyes were glazed over and red, staring absently at the ceiling as Markus tried to get him to come to. Hearing Dracula, the man whirled around and let go of Jack.

“C-Count Dracula!” stuttered the burly man. “I-I made a mistake, and I’m sorry, but it’ll be better soon. I promise.”

The vampire was silent as he eyed the boy over again, taking in the sight of him absolutely dazed to oblivion. He was wrapped in an extension cord, wrapped around his hands and ankles and torso, which was then tied to a rack in the shower like a leash.

“What have you done to him?” Dracula mumbled.

He could smell what the man had done in the air – marijuana, something he wasn’t too used to but could easily learn about. It had a very strong scent and Dracula realized this was actually what he’d smelled in the living room, not just general smoke.

“H-He was trying to escape out of everything I put him in, s-so I decided that if I… if I just got him a little high, he would stop.” Markus looked back down to Jack, who still lay dazed and quiet.

“Seems like you’ve succeeded.”

“Y… Yeah. But he’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Markus shifted a little, standing up, away from the edge of the tub so that Dracula could get closer to the boy. He peered down and examined him.

There was absolutely no reaction until Dracula ran a hand down the boy’s face, and then he opened his eyes just a little and looked the vampire over.

And then he smiled.

It was an airy smile – one that was obviously just the drugs – but it was such a precious one that Dracula smiled, too. The boy was beautiful. And though this wasn’t the real Jack, it was a far more docile one, and Dracula found that he didn’t mind it at all.

Still, it wasn’t a good thing that Markus had done this to him.

“Step outside,” Dracula said to the man.

“Sir…”

“Just go outside, hm?” Dracula turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Everything’s fine.”

The man did as he was told, leaving Dracula and Jack. Slowly, Dracula got in the tub, too, sitting across from Jack and beginning to undo his binds. If he’d learned one thing from his last encounter with him, it was that Jack could get out of anything. Apparently, the only thing that could stop him was drugs, which wasn’t an idea Dracula was fond of doing.

“How are you feeling?” Dracula asked. He leaned back once the extension cord was off, tossing it outside the tub. Then he sat back against the opposite side of the tub to admire the boy.

Jack licked his lips dryly, gaze cast to the ceiling. “Really good.” He snickered, closing his eyes and seeming to bask in the moment. “ _Really_ good.”

“I have another question,” Dracula said, glancing down as Jack moved his feet to rest in Dracula’s lap. His socks were bright white.

The boy made finger guns then, making little ‘pew’ sounds.

Dracula cracked a grin, looking the boy over. “When Zev stabbed me with the arrow… How did you feel?”

“Bad,” the boy murmured. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “So bad. I wish he hadn’t.”

“Why?” The words rushed from Dracula’s mouth before Jack was even done speaking. If his heart could have been pounding, it would have been. The anticipation of knowing that somewhere deep in Jack, he really did have some sort of positive feelings towards the vampire… well, it was enough to make him scream.

“Because you’re…” Jack bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling and examining it like it was complex architecture. “You’re still a person. I don’t… like seeing things in pain… especially you… because you’re so real.”

Jack squinted his eyes shut, sucking in a breath through his mouth and exhaling again with a look of complete exhaustion.

 _Real_? thought Dracula. _What did that mean_?

“You think I’m real, too, right?” Jack continued groggily. He licked his lips, rolling his head to the side and grinning over at Dracula goofily. “I’m real, right?” There was a hint of paranoia in the poor boy’s voice, making Dracula’s hair stand on end.

“Of course,” Dracula cooed, running a hand down Jack’s cheek. “Of course you’re real.”

“Awesome,” Jack whispered. He set his head back then, closing his eyes. “Thanks.”

And then the boy was asleep before Dracula could get out another word.

He picked up the boy gracefully, being mindful of not hitting him on anything, and carried him to Markus’ room. There, he set the boy down very gently and covered him in blankets.

Jack was beautiful. Dracula had no idea how many times he had to repeat that to himself before he stopped caring, but he loved reciting it over and over again just so that he knew he wasn’t taking it for granted. Because everything about Jack was beautiful – inside and out, too.

It was almost unfair, how perfect he was.

Not that Dracula wanted it to be any different.

Markus was waiting for him outside, smoking a cigarette. The man looked paranoid – his black eyes trailed back and forth between his surroundings before darting to the door when Dracula opened it. He cleared his throat, dropping the cigarette onto the cement of his porch and scuffing it out with his heel.

“How is he?”

“Fine.”

Dracula could almost feel the disappointment wafting off the man like too much cologne. However, he hid it well with a wave of relief.

“I’m so sorry I did that, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Once again, Dracula was left wrestling with the better half of himself that said, ‘No, you don’t have to kill him and, in fact, you might need him.’ Though it was particularly difficult to listen to that part of himself when he remembered the sight of Jack tied up with an _extension cord_ and drugged nearly out of his mind.

“I know,” Dracula mumbled. “I know.”

Markus was dead within the next minute.

Twenty minutes after, a thump sounded from the room Jack was in, and Dracula was quick to realize he was awake.

Markus’ room was small and cluttered with clothes and shrouded by the smell of weed and whatnot. There were two windows and a single twin-sized bed that was covered in brown, uncomfortably dirty sheets and stained pillows.

And then there was Jack, on the floor. The boy was looking around tiredly, not all that surprised and even unimpressed by his new surroundings. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he cast his gaze to Dracula, drawing his knees up to his chest. It wasn’t long after that he looked down to the floor.

“Is Zev okay?”

The worry laced his voice thick like acid. It took everything in Dracula to not make up some idiot lie and say that, no, Zev was very much dead and he’d buried him under the ground as quickly as possible. But the sight of the boy’s weak paranoia made him reconsider.

“Of course he’s fine,” Dracula whispered.

A breath of relief was knocked out of Jack. “Thank you.”

“I think he managed it by himself,” the vampire admitted. He looked Jack over before cautiously coming to sit across from the boy, crossing his legs and looking at him quietly. “This is a little pathetic of both of us.”

Bright, bright blue eyes looked up at him, clouded only slightly by the worry he was no doubt feeling. After all, being trapped with Dracula again… it was probably a nightmare. He’d tried feverishly to get away from him, over and over again, countless times. And he always wound up back with him.

By now he must have known it was where he belonged.

There wasn’t an immediate reply. Rather, Jack looked down at his knees, examining the fabric of Zev’s sweatpants. Then he grinned sheepishly. “A little bit.”

“But you keep running… and by now I think you know I’m not letting you go.”

“Promise?”

The words absolutely threw Dracula off guard. So much so that he swallowed before he was ready and coughed in surprise, looking the boy over in shock. Jack glanced up at him with an innocent, insecure gaze, his hair just barely covering his eyes.

“Of course I do,” Dracula breathed. He chuckled quietly as everything clicked. The reason Jack had been running from him for days, why he’d hooked up with Zev, why he’d tried to _stab_ him and poison him. “You’ve been testing me, haven’t you?”

Jack turned his gaze back down to his sweatpants, absently picking at a loose strand. “Can’t imagine what you mean.”

“Jack,” Dracula said.

The boy knew that meant to look up at him. Obediently, he did so, and now his eyes were practically glowing.

“Tell the truth.”

Sheepishly, Jack set his chin on his knees and looked to the side again.

Now Dracula couldn’t help himself, and he scooted closer to the boy, taking his chin in his hands and lifting it so that they were looking at each other.

“Do you need me to say it?”

Quietly, Jack bit his lip. That was a yes – it had to be.

Dracula thumbed his chin gently, basking in the sight of the quiet boy’s quiet innocence.

“Jack,” Dracula said very slowly, so the boy didn’t miss any of it, “I want you. Even if you don’t want m-“

The smaller boy’s lips smashed into his like a magnet. It was messy, but Dracula was quick to wrap his arms around Jack to settle him. It felt like magic – and Dracula wasn’t quick to call something magic, not after his years of solitude sleeping in dirt boxes and flinching at crosses.

But this – _this_ was magic. Jack kissing him, wanting him, _being with_ him. It was absolutely magic. And when he closed his eyes, he swore he saw sparks flashing like fireworks.

He kissed Jack, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to. And, well, he did want to, but it felt deeper than a mere want. It felt, rather, like every fiber of his being knew this was a necessity for both of them.

It was easy to hold Jack, too. The boy fit perfectly; his small frame curved beautifully into Dracula’s and as his hands came to settle on the vampire’s neck, he knew there wasn’t a more perfect place for either of them.

Soon Jack managed to push enough to where Dracula was laying on the ground. Jack straddled him, kissing him like there was no tomorrow, and Dracula happily obliged.

It was impossible to tell for how long this went on, but eventually Jack leaned back and took a moment to breathe. His blue eyes darted around Dracula’s face silently, taking in every aspect of him before he sat up.

Dracula propped himself up on his elbows, looking the boy over as well. He grinned. “I think this is the most eye contact you’ve ever given me, Jack Seward.”

At this, the corners of the boy’s lips drew up. He shook his head, looking to the side. “It’s… difficult.”

“I know,” Dracula cooed. He leaned up more, stroking a hand down Jack’s cheek. “But I’m not leaving. And I’m not going to make you stab me, alright?”

Jack rolled his eyes, getting off of Dracula and sitting against the wall again. He looked deflated. “That’s so sweet of you.”

They sat in silence for a second. In this moment, Dracula was able to recall the events leading up to this, and he couldn’t help but snort. “Last time we were together, you tried to kill me. You really only did that to see if I wouldn’t give up on you?”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “It isn’t like I had any other options.”

“You could’ve asked?” Dracula offered, scoffing.

“You could’ve lied.”

“So obviously trying to kill me was a great alternative.”

The boy rolled his eyes, hugging his legs to his chest. “The arrows wouldn’t have killed you. Don’t be a baby about it.”

Dracula looked to the side, quiet now as he examined Markus’ room. It was ugly – well, he’d already established that, but now it was even _more_ ugly because it wasn’t where Dracula wanted to be. He wanted to be back in his apartment, where Zoe was no doubt raging as an unrestrained vampire, unable to open doors or escape from her beautiful prison.

“Does New York have a mafia?” Jack suddenly asked, and Dracula had to repeat the question to himself to fully understand it.

“I…”

The vague taste of Markus’ blood lingered in Dracula’s mind. He was able to bring up some memories – hardly any – although the ones he grabbed were of violence and, yes, the mafia.

“I suppose?” Dracula replied, but wasn’t sure what that question had to do with any of what they’d just spoken of. Perhaps Jack wanted to join the mafia.

Now _that_ was laughable.

Jack sniffed, standing up. Dracula followed suite, following Jack’s gaze around the room. The boy’s hand fell on the windowsill – outside of which was a very nice car. It was no doubt Markus’, seeing as it was the only car in the driveway.

“Was Markus in the mafia?”

 _Well, you don’t have to be Sherlock all the time, Jack_ , Dracula thought bitterly. Sometimes the boy seemed too smart for one person.

“Yes?” Dracula mumbled. “I’m not sure why it matters… at all. He’s dead now so it- Jack, did you get that he was in the mafia from his _car_?”

“That isn’t his car.”

“What?”

“He parked – he parked behind the house to avoid suspicion. Th-That isn’t his car.”

Jack scoffed, running a hand through his already messy hair, which Dracula felt inclined to give him a comb for as he wasn’t used to seeing his hair so muddled. Though, admittedly, it also looked outright attractive.

“I think I can fight off whoever was in that car,” Dracula mumbled. It was almost a bit offensive to think Jack hadn’t any faith in the vampire, who still possessed inhuman strength despite learning that half of the things he’d done in his life weren’t necessary. The one thing that couldn’t be faked was the outrageous strength he’d used to slaughter and – well, of course he did more than slaughtering with his abilities, such as…

He’d get back to that.

“Have you never heard of the mafia?” Jack asked dumbly.

“Of course I’ve heard of the…” Dracula rolled his eyes. “I’ve not been in this century for too long. What’s wrong with the mafia – are they secretly vampires, too?”

“Worse.”

“So now there’s a worse thing than vampires, Jack?”

The boy whipped his head to him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You…”

He didn’t need to start an argument right now. Did he? No, he shouldn’t. They had just started to get comfortable with each other.

“Should we lea-“

Three knocks on the front door answered the question. Leaving was no longer an option.

Why was it that whenever things started to get good, something had to ruin it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, i know their whole 'getting together' was a little abrupt, but i felt like the - what, 13-chapter cat-and-mouse was becoming monotonous
> 
> actually, their getting together was also a little messy.... idk how i feel about it, how do u feel?
> 
> what are ur thoughts? should i do some whack shit and make jack hate him again? or should they be ~friends~
> 
> also, sorry for the long-ass wait... thank u for being patient and thank u even more for reading!! ily ily ily
> 
> but heyyy, it's technically an even day, right?
> 
> i'm uploading this at 12:10 in the morning ;)


	15. it's just an update >:(

mine, like most schools, has closed for at least 2 weeks

am I excited? yes :)

am I stressed? fuck yes! im not excited to be moving to online classes but at least ill get to sleep in and, ofc, write more shit for this story - im hoping to get back on track of posting every other day for at least 2 weeks

plz plz plz stay safe out there,,, like wash ur hands and don't touch ur face and stay 3 ft apart (thanks google?) or whateva... 

i love u 💛💛


	16. Pyrophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyrophobia - the fear of fire

“Don’t be an idiot,” cooed the voice on the other side of the door. “Open up and we can talk civilly about old Markus.”

“Where did you put his body?” Jack murmured, looking over to the vampire. He didn’t look startled in the slightest – rather, the only word one could describe him with was collected. It was if he had no idea that the mafia was something even a vampire couldn’t take on.

“The porch?” Dracula replied, shrugging. “Calm down, Jack. It’s fine.”

He was an idiot. A complete idiot. A narcissistic, egotistical idiot that didn’t understand when someone had more power than him.

 _Were you still high, Jack?_ hissed the voice in his head. _Were you still high, and that’s why you kissed him?_

That had to be it.

Before Jack’s thoughts could progress anymore, the door was shoved open. From Markus’ room, they could see the front door just slightly, where it was revealed that there were two men inside the house. They were clad in dark shirts and pants, sunglasses, and their hair was slicked back. They also had numerous tattoos.

“I’ll just kill them,” Dracula said, walking leisurely to the door. “Stay here.”

“If you kill them, they’ll keep coming back until they find us. Then they’ll kill us – it won’t be hard for them to figure out you’re Dracula.”

Jack approached the taller man, crossing his arms. “Let’s just talk to them.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

“Living?” Jack replied, before listening to the sound of the two men approaching Markus’ room after they’d laid eyes on them.

Their eyes were absolutely emotionless. They stopped three feet away from the door, examining Dracula and Jack like they were trying to understand everything about the two. There wasn’t much to understand, though, Jack didn’t think – one was obviously a vampire, one was obviously a nervous doctor who was obsessed with falling for idiots and then not trusting them.

“I saw Markus on the porch,” mused the one on the right. He had a mustache and the other didn’t, which was perhaps the old discernable feature between the two. “Which one of you offed him?”

“We found him like that,” Jack said at the same time that Dracula said, “I did.”

The one on the left snorted. “You two aren’t very well put together, are you? You, though,” he said, eyes trailing to Dracula, “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? Maybe… around the police… around the beach…”

“What, you were there?” Dracula asked, none too nervously. In fact, it sounded like all the emotion had been sapped from his voice. “It must have been pretty unique, hm? Watching a man emerge from the ocean with police everywhere, swarming like maggots.”

“Oh, my God,” Jack whispered.

“Tell me it didn’t look cool,” Dracula pried. His tone was so arrogant that it seemed impossible to even comprehend what was going through his head, aside from, ‘I’m the greatest, clearly these people aren’t going to hurt me or Jack, but I don’t even care about Jack even though he could get killed right now because I’m being an idiot.’

“It didn’t look cool. It especially didn’t look cool,” continued the one on the left, “when you decided to shoot my girlfriend.”

Dracula scoffed at this, crossing his arms. “She wouldn’t smile. But I’m sure she had a pretty one.”

Jack couldn’t help but think of how interesting and unlikely it was that a mafia member had been dating someone on the police force. And now he wanted to get revenge on her death, it seemed.

Which made this entire situation even worse and more deadly.

“Her name was Mary Beth. My name is Preston, and I intend to show you how much of an idiot you were killing the only goodness in this world,” snapped the one on the left, whose name didn’t match his angry physique at all.

“Heard that one before,” Dracula said off-handedly. He sighed, looking Preston over before shrugging. “What, are you going to kill me?”

“No,” hissed Preston. He drew a gun from his belt, taking the safety off just as quickly. “I’m going to take this one.”

And then the gun was pointed at Jack, right at his temple.

Jack had been in this situation before. He couldn’t actually count the number of times he’d been stuck in front of the barrel of a gun, not knowing the impulsiveness of the person holding it. He knew, realistically, he could die at any second.

But he also knew Dracula was fast, and he hoped to every god in the world that the man would be kind enough to not get him killed.

“Sure,” Dracula shrugged. “He’d die from a single bullet.”

Jack scoffed, feeling his blood run cold at the sound. “You’re an idiot,” he breathed.

“But,” continued Dracula, looking out the window in thought, “if you kill him, I’m going to kill you, too. In _much_ worse methods. And maybe I’ll even do it twice if I’m feeling particularly bored. Now, you don’t have to ask how, because I can just tell you: first, I’d rip off your fingers. It wouldn’t be that hard considering you’re just a human and I’m, well, a vampire, and I’ve got much more strength than you could ever think to possess. Once you didn’t have fingers, I’d let you bleed out just enough that-“

“God, Dracula,” spat Jack, interrupting him completely. He felt rage welling in his chest like a sort of fireball, ready to burst out if the man were to even finish his sentence. “They understand.”

“Do they?”

Both of them turned their gazes to the mafia members, who were standing with blank stares. The gun hadn’t moved.

Preston murmured, “I’m not scared of death, Count Dracula. I’m scared of living in a world where the evil aren’t punished.”

And then he shot the gun.

It would have been a lie if Jack were to say he hadn’t been scared, and he flinched so hard that his jaw hurt as if he had, in fact, been shot in the mouth. He wondered if he had actually. Wondered if he was just experiencing the bleary few seconds before death.

A timid glance in front of him showed Dracula had taken the bullet instead. He stood there like a shield, standing strongly as if he hadn’t been shot.

But that was a perk of being a vampire, Jack supposed.

It didn’t take long for Dracula to whip out his hand. In the next second, Preston’s gun was on the floor, and Dracula was striding towards him. The man backed up, stumbling until the other man shoved Dracula into the wall.

In turn, Dracula grabbed the man by the throat and _pushed him_ , but it was more than a push because it sent him hurtling back into the opposite wall of Markus’ room. Dracula then turned back to Preston, beginning to approach him again.

 _Oh, fuck. Sure. Put him in here,_ Jack thought bitterly.

The other man stood up, almost unharmed, and glared at Jack. “You’re so done for, pipsqueak. Preston will have his revenge and it won’t look pretty for anyone.”

“C-Can’t be any worse than you,” Jack managed, grinning slyly.

At this, the man roared with rage, beginning to barrel his way towards Jack.

Thinking quickly, he plucked a pencil out of the pen cup beside Markus’ bed. It wouldn’t do much, though, since as soon as he’d gotten it, the man shoved him against the wall and wrapped a hand around his throat. He began squeezing as if he was checking Jack’s blood pressure. That was to say, he was squeezing _very_ tightly.

Black spots began forming around the edges of Jack’s vision and a headache blossomed in his head just as quickly. His movements nimble, he shoved the pencil into the man’s chest.

Well, he shoved the eraser into his chest.

Letting out a throaty groan of anger, the man grabbed the pencil and pulled. He’d probably meant to take the pencil away, but he only managed to snap it in half, at which point Jack was able to easily shove it into the side of the man’s neck.

Now it was a sickly groan instead, and he stumbled back, clutching his throat. Jack did the same, gaining his breath back with hoarse gasps.

The pencil would make it difficult to talk, but it wouldn’t kill him. Jack had gone it at an angle – by accident – and it seemed to have not hit any important arteries.

Still, the man looked to be in pain. Which was good enough.

Except it wasn’t good enough when he pulled a gun out from his coat, aiming it right at Jack. In the split second between looking down the barrel of the gun and the man firing, Jack was able to duck out of the way, lunging for the gun that Preston had dropped. He grabbed it, rolling until he was a good distance from the other man and aiming his own gun at him, though he remained in a position that would make it easy to run again.

“Come on, pipsqueak,” the man managed. His speech was garbled, not only because of the pencil but also because blood was pouring from his blood whenever he spoke. “Do it. You won’t.”

Jack had never killed a person before – deliberately. 

He really didn’t want to start with a mafia member.

In his moment of thought, the man fired the gun. His aim must have been off because of how distracting the pencil was, and it landed in Jack’s arm. It burned like fire – he could practically feel his skin split open, feel the bullet lodged deep into his arm. But he didn’t hesitate to pull the gun up and shoot the man in return.

The bullet landed in his shoulder. He was sent back, stumbling until he fell against the wall. Then he collapsed to his knees, spitting out blood.

“Don’t make me do this,” Jack spat. With difficulty, he forced himself to stand up, approaching the man slowly. Hopefully it would give him time to debate if he wanted to go through with this or not. “It isn’t your fight.”

The man only chuckled, though it wasn’t really a chuckle. It was more of a watery gurgle.

“Don’t… be… a pussy…” the man tried to say. “Look… look me in the eyes… and kill me.”

 _Oh, God,_ Jack thought.

He set his jaw, pressing the barrel of the gun to the man’s forehead.

No, there was no way he was going to kill this man. He couldn’t do that, not after everything with his parents. He wasn’t going to give this man what he wanted. He couldn’t possibly allow that to happen, could he?

“No,” Jack spat. He stepped back, putting the gun in his waistband. Surely he could use it later. “No, you’re going to bleed to death, anyway. I-I won’t do it.”

At this, the man scoffed. “Does fire kill vampires?” he asked. “If it doesn’t, it still bloody hurts for people.” His hand snaked into his jacket pocket before Jack could even think, watching as the man brought out a lighter.

Jack went to grab it, but the man fired the gun without warning. He collapsed back, feeling pain _somewhere_ , but at this point, everything hurt.

A few clicks and then… _whoosh_.

The man had _set himself on fire_.

“Bloody Hell,” Jack whispered, already beginning to smell the burning flesh. He pried himself up, feeling a particular aching in his stomach. Of course, that’s where he’d been shot. Right in a possibly vital organ. He was too disoriented to tell.

It hurt, but he began dragging himself out of the room, feeling the fire skim his shoes. His jaw clenched, he continued to claw his way out until he reached the door to the room. There, he managed to pull the door shut. It wouldn’t do much, but it would postpone the entire house burning down by a few seconds, at least.

He then turned around, clutching as his stomach. There was no evidence of Dracula or Preston anywhere in the house.

“Dracula!” Jack yelled, coughing up blood. Oh, fuck. Where had he been shot? “Dracula!”

There was no response.

Jack continued to drag himself through the house. Glancing back, he found he was leaving a trail of thick blood. It was also getting hotter, he noticed. Much hotter.

It was getting harder to pull himself anywhere. His right arm had been the one to get shot and he was too tired to figure out how to organize dragging himself with his left arm. The door was so, so close… he could see it right there.

“You can get to it, Jack,” said Jonathan. He was far too calm compared to the burning house. “You just have to want to live.”

“I do want to live,” Jack whispered. “I just don’t know if I can.”

“It’s right there,” Jonathan scoffed. He pointed over to the door. Five feet away – at most. “ _Right_ there. Just – come on, get up and get out. What would Dracula think if he found you’d burned up in a house? Or Zev, if he found out you’d died because of Dracula?”

Jack couldn’t help but breathe out a chuckle. “He’d stake him. A few times.”

“So for the sake of everyone, don’t you think you should get up?”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jack nodded. Sweat dripped from his temples as he willed himself forward again. Every movement felt like someone was shoved hot irons into his wounds and pressing the heel of a shoe into the rest of his body. Except it was worse than that – he was just too tired to figure out a better comparison.

It took longer than it should have, but he got to the door. Relief flooded him as he sat beside it, coughing from the smoke flooding his longs.

He reached up and set his hand on the doorknob, twisting.

The doorknob turned-

\- but the door didn’t move.

He wasn’t even able to analyze the situation before tears began spilling down his face.

“No, no, no, no,” Jack cried. He twisted the doorknob again and again, pulling violently, but it didn’t budge. “No – fuck! Fuck, no, don’t do this to me…”

He used what little of his strength was left to pull as hard as he could, crying out as he did. It didn’t move. Didn’t budge, not even a centimeter. He let out a breath of exhaustion, setting his back against the wall and letting his arm collapse to his side.

Where was Dracula?

Was this really how he died?

He wondered if he would burn or die of blood loss first.

Burning would probably be worse, but that was more likely to happen.

“Well,” Jonathan whispered, sitting down across from Jack and crossing his legs, “this is pitiful, Jack.”

“You try opening the door, then,” spat the boy, closing his eyes.

“Very funny… I just don’t want you to die, Jack.”

“Then open the fucking door.”

“I can’t, Jack. And neither can you. I’m just saying… this is sad. A sad way to go out. I’m sorry, and… dare I say, I’ll miss you.”

Jack snorted, letting out a breath. He could feel all of his energy leaking from him like water. Soon there would be nothing left of him.

The fire was in the living room now, eating at the carpet quickly. Jack drew his knees up to his chest, biting his lip and opening his eyes. This was no longer a house. It was a fire. A raging fire that would no doubt soon burn Jack inside of it, and Dracula would come back to find nothing but bones and teeth.

A faint yelling caught his attention.

He tilted his head just slightly, glancing to the door, but that wasn’t where it was coming from. His attention shifted to the door that was still consumed by fire, but now there were voices behind it. Or, just one. The door shook and shook until finally, it burst open, revealing none other than Dracula.

He’d been locked in the basement.

And now he was covered in blood, but otherwise, he didn’t look injured.

The vampire took strides through the fire towards Jack, shedding his shirt that had caught fire. Scooping up Jack in strong, cold, relieving hands, he easily pushed the door open with his side.

The cold air felt like he’d entered heaven.

Jack took in a large breath, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs. While he gasped, the vampire held him close, and together, they panted in the air, though Dracula didn’t quite need it. It was still nice to know someone shared his struggles.

Soon the vampire let go of him, setting him down against the porch. The rainwater felt even better against his back, soaking into his shirt that had nearly been turned to ash.

“Thank God for you, Dracula,” Jack coughed.

“Never heard _that_ one before,” the vampire teased, collapsing down beside Jack. They stared up at the patchy roof together, where some of the wood had rotted and fallen through, revealing the night sky.

Behind them, they could hear the fire roaring.

Soon they’d have to leave the porch.

But for now, it was just nice to know they’d survived together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so maybe every other other day, whatever
> 
> i'm trying
> 
> comment smthn or whatever u wanna do i'm really a little bored
> 
> plz stay safe out there,,, pretty plz plz plz
> 
> ily


	17. Pharmacophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pharmacophobia - the fear of pharmaceutical drugs

Blood loss was a sick thing. It felt like someone had sapped the life force out of him, very slowly, and were gradually continuing to do that until there was hardly anything left of him.

Everything else around him was fading like stacked dominos, crumbling until there was nothing left for him to consider but the feeling of rain against his back and Dracula’s arms wrapped around his torso, carrying him somewhere. Otherwise, he was so nonexistent that he might as well have been dead.

Maybe he was…

He woke up to a bright light. A really bright light. That, along with a pounding headache and IV’s in his arm. It was a familiar setting for him. Working with Dr. Helsing for so long had its perks, he supposed, though they included knowing what it was like in a hospital room so vividly that it may as well have been your own room.

Most of the time he’d been working in the asylum, but the second Zoe had offered him the job, he’d taken it. There had been nothing he’d wanted more than to forge a connection with someone, and she’d been it.

And then she died.

Jack sighed, sitting up slowly. Everything in his body screamed for him to stop instantly, so he let out a breath and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. An attempt to pull his arms to his chest was met with resistance, and when he glanced over, he found he was handcuffed to the side of the hospital bed.

“What…”

He forced himself to sit up a little bit more, gritting his teeth to suppress any cries of pain before he finally managed to sit up all the way. Why was he handcuffed? And where was Dracula?

The hospital room was completely empty, save for the usual things that a hospital room would have. There was a tray of food to the side, still steaming. Inside Jack could smell chicken pot pie which the idea of consuming was sickening. He resisted a gag, swallowing numbly and glancing around some more. He had sweatpants on with no shirt, revealing a thick bandage around his torso from where he’d been shot as well as one around his arm.

But why on earth was he handcuffed to this bed?

He jostled his hand around a little bit, tugging against the cuff. What he’d been expecting to achieve was beyond him, but once it didn’t move, he glanced around. Maybe he could use the IV to pick the lock? It was a far-fetched idea, but he wasn’t really heavy with options.

Hand shaking, he reached for the IV just as the door opened.

“I wouldn’t do that,” whispered a British voice.

Jack glanced up instantly, finding a man in a trench coat with a dark green turtleneck. There was no way this man wasn’t a detective. Not with the four o’clock shadow or the tan pants with the belt, or the long, shiny shoes and the slicked-back black hair. No, this man was certainly a detective.

“Can I help you?” Jack asked.

“I think you know the answer to that,” replied the detective, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He crossed one leg over the other, clasping his hands in his lap.

“I don’t understand why you’re here. I showed up with two bullets in me, so… I was the victim,” Jack mumbled. He wasn’t really the victim. Was he? He’d shot the guy, too. And stabbed him in the neck with the pencil. Had it been self-defense, or had it been just a fight?

Was he going to go to jail for killing the man?

“Yes, Jack. You showed up at a hospital. Alone. Unconscious. Covered in ash, your shirt practically burned off your body. With _two_ bullet wounds, half dead… And we’re going to assume you were the victim? For all we know, you committed arson. How did you even get here?” the detective mused, leaning back to cross his arms over his chest.

“The man that brought me… left?”

Had Dracula really dropped him off at the door of a hospital and vanished? How could he have done that? Certainly, he knew he was allowed in places without being invited at this point.

Unless the tension had been too much for him. Maybe watching Jack nearly die was too much and he decided to just leave without another word, make it painless for Jack.

“Supposedly,” the detective continued. “For all we know, you _teleported_ here from the future on the back of a magical fucking camel. So either you’re going to tell why you’re here and who brought you, or we’re going to run a trial for you.”

“I’m still innocent until proven guilty.”

“And there’s a house that burned down a few miles from here. I think we can pretty well assume you and the house are connected, and that _something_ bad went down. Because you know what else we found in that house?”

 _Oh, fuck_.

“Teeth.”

 _That’s really awesome, great,_ Jack seethed to himself.

“Whose teeth?” Jack pried, picking at the scab on his palm from when he’d drawn Zoe in.

“Markus Benson, but more notably, Killian Brown – he was a mafia member as well as a father of two.”

Jack swallowed dryly. “A what?”

“A father to two children who now are in the foster system because their father is dead. Because their father was burned in a fire, whose funeral they can’t even attend because they wouldn’t know whose it was. They are twins, and they are one year old.”

“That’s sore,” said a voice that wasn’t Jack’s. He turned, glancing to the window, where Jonathan Harker stood. “But it isn’t your fault. He set himself on fire – you know that, don’t you? You can’t be guilty or feel bad about his children when it was his fault, Jack.”

That was a little different. Usually, in these situations, the voice they were hearing wasn’t the voice of reason. It was a shameful, merciless voice bent on making the listener go insane or confess to a crime. But Jonathan Harker was doing no such thing.

“I-I didn’t do it,” Jack stuttered. He looked up to the detective, clenching his fists. “I didn’t set him on fire.”

“So he was set on fire?” the detective pried. Pulling a notebook from his coat pocket, he began to write on it.

Jack blushed, going quiet.

A moment of silence, and then the detective sighed.

“Listen, Jack,” said the detective, leaning forward, setting his elbows on his knees. His gaze was startlingly firm, peering into Jack’s soul. Maybe it was just his perception of everyone, though, because everyone seemed to have that sort of gaze. “I’m gonna be honest. I know who brought you here. It’s pretty obvious what happened, but you’re going to have to be a little honest with me about who started the fire and why.”

Jack licked his dry lips, glancing down to his hands. The scab was bleeding from how much he’d picked it, and he anxiously tucked his hands against the blanket. “Who brought me?” he asked.

“Landon Prince,” the detective admitted easily. Before Jack could ask who that was, he continued, “the leader of the mafia gang, the Princetons.”

Jack remained speechless, so the detective continued. “I don’t want to get sourly involved with them – really, I don’t. That would be shit. But I work for the law, too, and I can’t just say, ‘oh, my client with _two bullet wounds_ managed to escape right from under my nose, let’s assume him innocent.’ So what I’m hoping can happen here is… you give me the info of who started the fire and why, and I can work with that to craft a story to paint you innocent.”

“Just do that now.”

“Well, right now it sounds like you set Mr. Brown on fire. A-And that’s fine if you did. But that’s sort of the only information I have, and I need a story that can line up with the reason we have _two_ dead bodies in that house, and you walked out alive. So just give me something and I can call Landon-“

“You don’t have to call him,” Jack interrupted. “I can find my way there.”

The detective shook his head. “I would, but you’re not in the right condition to get home by yourself. It would be better if Landon picked you up,” he said, then shrugged. “Besides, it would probably look pretty good if he saw that I was the one dropping you off, right?”

 _Shit,_ Jack thought. He repeated the word over and over again until he felt he’d thought it enough.

“Just prove you’re innocent,” Jonathan mentioned, sitting down at the window. He was just slightly translucent, with the light shining through him just enough that Jack could faintly see through him. “There has to be some proof that you’re innocent – then you don’t have to get involved with the Princetons at all.”

But he’d walked out of that house with two bullets wounds and there were two other people who _hadn’t_ walked out of that house. Jack looked like a villain. And although there wasn’t any proof that he’d done anything for or against the starting of the fire, it was clear that if Jack wasn’t actually with the mafia, the detective wouldn’t be on his side in any of this.

“Here, I’ll go ahead and call Landon,” offered the detective, smiling tightly. “Just make you feel secure in all of this that you’re going to go home soon, right?”

 _Oh, fuck_ , Jack thought. He thought this over and over again, just like the last thought, except this one was more of a scream.

This was the end for him. The detective was going to find out that he wasn’t with the mafia and he was going to do everything in his power to send him to jail for arson and murder. It was going to be the end of the line for him, and Dracula wouldn’t be able to fight an entire police force to get him out of there, and even if he did, they’d be on the run for the rest of their life, and-

“Hey, Landon,” sang the detective. He’d turned around to face the window, looking out at it with an eager smile. Jonathan Harker glanced up at him curiously, unbothered. “I’ve got the kid, uh – hey, what’s your name?”

They met eyes, and Jack hesitated before stammering out, “J-Jack.”

“Jack? I’ve got Jack here, yeah… The kid that was in the fire yesterday?”

_Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh-_

“Great. Yeah, it was great talking to you. Yup, see you in a few minutes. Great, ye – oh, okay. Bye.”

The detective pulled the phone from his ear, stashing it back in his trench coat. Letting out a tired sigh, he sat back down in the chair beside the bed. “Alright, we’ve got that all worked. So you just need to tell me who started the fire and why, and we can get you off with Landon here in a few minutes.”

There was no getting out of this now. Landon _for some reason_ had agreed to pick him up, and now he was fucked if Dracula didn’t show up before he was carted off to the mafia – probably to die. Maybe Landon also had some attachment to the woman Dracula had killed and wanted revenge, too. Maybe he was just a salty man who enjoyed killing people. Maybe he’d just agreed to take Jack so that he could kill him for fun. Maybe-

“Hey, Jack?” hummed the detective. “Landon’s gonna be here in a few minutes and I need something from you. Plus we still have to check you out. Just tell me who started the fire and why.”

Jack looked up to the detective, into his sensitive brown eyes. Numbly, he whispered, “Killian… Killian s-started the fire. I…” _I had stabbed him in the neck with a pencil and shot him in the shoulder_ didn’t sound like the right way to continue that, so he just finished with, “I think he was crazy after his girlfriend was killed. Markus was high outside, so he didn’t notice the fire until too late. I got out through… through the window.”

The biggest lie he’d ever told, and it was so that he wouldn’t go to jail. He was lying to the law. Right to the face of the law, and he wasn’t even trying.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Jonathan said, crossing his arms. He sniffed, glancing out the window. “I think it’ll be okay.”

The detective sighed, scribbling all of that down. For a second, Jack was terrified that he wouldn’t believe him. Terrified that he’d admit he hadn’t even called Landon and this was all just a ploy to get him to lie to the law so that they could shove him in jail without a hard trial.

But then he smiled, closing his notebook. “Sounds good. I’ll go get you signed out and we can get you to Landon.”

“Cool,” Jack breathed.

The detective then left, and Jack was alone in his hospital room, still handcuffed to the bed. The panic was beginning to settle in his stomach, making him lightheaded and no doubt about to bring on another hallucination. But Jonathan was already there…

Oh, he didn’t want the Box… there was no way he could handle that right now.

“Fuck,” Jack whispered, setting his head back, closing his eyes.

“Just breathe,” Jonathan suggested. There wasn’t a weight on the bed, but Jack could feel his presence there. “In… out… in… out…”

Jack did as he was told, breathing as evenly as he could. But his mind kept wandering to the idea that he was about to be released to the leader of New York’s biggest mafia leader. He kept reciting the fact that he’d lied to a _detective_ about what he’d done, the fact that he’d shot a man and stabbed him in the neck with a _pencil_ , and the fact that he could very well go to jail for arson if the detective found out anything was wrong with Jack’s relationship with Landon.

Or, the lack thereof.

And where, in all of this, was Dracula?

His heart began to pound erratically, causing the heart monitor to beep furiously.

“I’m sure he has a good reason for not being here,” Jonathan vouched. “Surely he wouldn’t just leave you after all of that.”

“He ditched me,” Jack managed between gasps. His chest _hurt_. And it wasn’t just the bullet - it was the idea that he was in this situation alone. Dracula was nowhere. “He left me… a-at the hospital… a-after I’d been shot and nearly burned…”

Jack licked his lips, feeling tears welling in his eyes. Everything hurt, inside and out, and he wanted nothing more than to just scream about how shitty this situation was.

The door burst open to reveal a nurse, who rushed to him and tried to calm him down. She said some things, but he couldn’t understand any of it. Tears were flooding down his face and all he could really hear was the pounding of his heart and the repetition of, ‘you’re going to die, you’re going to die’ in his head.

Eventually, he could feel a needle in his arm, and that was it.

Everything slowed down instantly, like it had been put in .5 speed. His thoughts relaxed, too… and soon he was floating.

Literally or metaphorically, he wasn’t sure. But it felt damn good.

“Mr. Seward?” asked a distant voice.

Jack let out a slow breath, allowing his eyes to flutter open. The light hurt only slightly, but after a few blinks he was able to see just fine.

There, standing in the doorway, was a man in a black button-up standing beside the detective.

“Shit,” Jack whispered. The panic wasn’t what it was, though. It was low, thrumming in his diaphragm instead like some sort of numb metronome.

Why had he been worrying in the first place? That was silly.

“This is Jack,” mused the man in the black button-up. Landon, no doubt.

“Yup,” the detective hummed. “I’m not sure why he had a panic attack just then, but he looks fine now.”

Landon snorted. “He looks drugged now.”

“Um… right. If you want to sign for him, then?”

The only sound was of Landon scribbling on a clipboard, and then his shoes tapping against the floor as he approached the side of the bed. There, he looked Jack over. They met eyes, but Jack wasn’t really able to _look_ at him. He couldn’t acknowledge any of his features or his… his very dark shirt… and his short brown hair… and his pale skin… and his green eyes that were actually probably emeralds…

“It’s nice to meet you finally, Jack Seward. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Jack only let out a shaky breath, swallowing numbly. The metronome was getting faster, more like a pulse instead, or a consistent vibration.

But he had no idea why on earth he would be scared at a time like this.

After being hefted into a wheelchair, Landon slid one of the hospital’s spare shirts over him. It was really soft… soft enough that Jack slowly wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes. Voices spoke over him, but he could only discern one.

Jonathan’s.

“Jack, this is a bad idea. Jack? Jack, please come out of this. What did they do to you? N-No, Jack, I…”

His voice faded.

Just like everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i  
> don't  
> know  
> how  
> to  
> write  
> the bedroom gig  
> i'm  
> sorry
> 
> u may be thinkin, 'charlie why the fuck did u introduce the mafia the second dracula and jack started getting comfy' 'charlie it's literally chapter 16 where's the smooches and the lemon' 'charlie why might u be introducing a third love interest for jack right now at the worst time that is now' (who, by the way, is going to be face claimed by zach cox)
> 
> a) this story has no structure and i'm literally writing it without any plans and b) i don't know how to write the bedroom gig so im procrastinating HARD,,, am sorry
> 
> i am an asexual female with zero experience with males bein together, whether it be in writing or in person
> 
> help


	18. Vehophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vehophobia - the fear of driving

Leaving Jack at the hospital had been like trying not to drown when a weight was tied to your ankle and you were thrown underwater. That was to say, it was incredibly difficult, and in any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have been able to. But he had yelled for help and gave the boy to the first nurse to come to him. After they started asking Jack questions and ignoring Dracula, he had decided it would be a good idea to leave.

It wasn’t that he wanted to leave – no, it was the last thing he wanted to do. But the smell of Jack’s blood, plus the smell of blood pulsating from the hospital’s every room, was too much. If he stayed, he would have no doubt fed on everyone in there.

He had to find sustenance somewhere else. Zoe had given Jack to him in hopes that he would feed on him and only him, but that was becoming increasingly difficult. Not only because Jack had run away so many times, but now because he was in the hospital.

Everything was getting so difficult.

Dracula took refuge in his old apartment after staking Zoe, throwing her in the storage room. Then he went about tidying up his house.

There were only so many things a vampire could do to pass the time. He’d learned to just feed off of people if he was bored, which was how he’d gone so long without killing himself out of sheer boredom – it wasn’t possible anyway, but he’d entertained the idea far too many times. Now, though, Dracula couldn’t feed off of anyone. Rather, he was stuck entertaining himself by cleaning the apartment for when Jack got back.

After two days, Dracula managed to call the hospital, asking for Jack.

“Jack Seward?” asked the receptionist. “He’s still unconscious… I’m very sorry. But he’s recovering very quickly, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know.”

“Thanks,” Dracula spat, setting the phone down.

How long was Jack going to be unconscious? How long until they could see each other again? Dracula wasn’t even able to enter the hospital to check on him, and he had no way of telling the sleeping boy that he did, in fact, care about him and hadn’t left him in the hospital because he was a jerk.

No, he had done it for the safety of everyone. But the idea that Jack was alone in the hospital was terrifying and… sad.

So of course, there was an alternative. The hospital room had to have a window, so it was just a matter of flying up there and sniffing him out. Though between the smells of the tons of other patients there, it might have been difficult to sniff him out. Especially considering he now smelled of rain instead of, well, Jack.

He called every day until a week later, when he was told Jack was awake.

“Oh, finally. When can he be released?” Dracula asked, gathering his coat and heading for the door. He’d felt like an idiot sitting around his apartment for a week, feeding off of raw meat from the store and anyone with a gun aimed at someone on the street. He’d considered, even, posting on Craigslist, ‘I need a blood bag, please reply, I’m thirsty,’ because he knew there were psychos out there who wouldn’t mind.

Namely Lucy. Mostly Lucy.

Only Lucy?

“He’s already been released, sir, I’m sorry. He was actually released a few minutes after waking up,” she replied.

“Released?” he scoffed. “R-Released by who, did he let himself out?”

“Mm… no, he wasn’t in the condition to leave by himself.”

He was resisting the urge to snap at this woman. “Okay, then, by who? Who was he released into the custody of?”

“Um… L – oh, no,” she whispered.

If Dracula had blood that could have run cold, it would have. He bit back a growl. “What? Who’s L?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t give you this information.”

And then the phone went quiet.

He pulled the phone from his ear, looking down at it in numb shock. L? Who the bloody hell was L, and why was the receptionist too nervous to say his name?

Dracula threw on his coat, deciding his only option now was to go to the hospital. That would require a bit more strength than he was sure he had, but maybe the memory that he was doing it for Jack would be enough to hold him over.

The hospital wasn’t too far into the city, and neither was he, so the walk there was fast.

He could smell the blood from a block away. It inundated his senses like the fire from Markus’ house, except it wasn’t quite as bad. However, the second he was at the hospital’s door, it was worse. It was like the fire was inside him, biting at him, waiting for him to crack.

But he had to get answers. He had to know who L was.

The steps inside were staggered, but he managed to open the door and almost collapse into the front desk.

The woman flinched, looking at him in panic. “Sir, are you alright?”

The only thing he could see was red, but he spoke hoarsely. “Jack Seward. Whose custody was he released into?”

“Sir, are you hurt?”

He slammed his hand against the desk, glaring up at the woman with doubtlessly black eyes. “Jack Seward,” he seethed. It was even difficult to speak through the salivation, but all he could think about or see was blood… and a little bit of Jack. His thoughts would swarm there every other second, reminding him why he was here in the first place. “Who was Jack released to?”

She sucked in a sharp breath before beginning to type on her computer furiously. The sound was distracting, thankfully, and he was able to zone out to the sound of it for a second. However, the second she stopped, he was brought back to the present, where he was reminded of the singular smell in the hospital.

“L- oh, dear.”

“Say his name. _Now_.”

“L-Landon Princeton. But that’s all I can say – p-please leave before I have to call security.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice.

Stumbling outside, Dracula repeated the name to himself over and over again before it stuck, and even then, he had no idea who Landon Princeton was. There weren’t even memories of him from Markus other than a vague sense of dread, but he couldn’t even figure out why, or if it was Markus’ feelings or his own.

The idea that this random guy had taken Jack did fill him with dread.

Well, now he had to think about how he was going to figure out who Landon Princeton was.

And luckily for him, there was only one New Yorker whom he’d made an impression on and who cared equally for Jack.

Zev’s house was very nice. Nicer than Dracula would have expected from such a – no, he had to be nice right now. They were going to be working together to get Jack back, weren’t they? So they had to learn how to work together, and step one of that was… not calling him an idiot child.

Dracula knocked three times and then stepped back, crossing his arms. Was this embarrassing? No, certainly not.

Not a bit.

After a few seconds, the door opened and there was Zev, disheveled and confused. Upon finding it was Dracula at the door and not, for instance, the delivery man, he instantly shut the door and left Dracula standing outside.

“You’re going to have to let me in,” Dracula called, narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t have to do anything. Fuck off,” Zev called back.

Dracula let out a slow breath, glancing around the outside of the house before knocking again. Maybe if he just kept knocking until Zev opened the door, he would have no choice but to listen for the sake of not being annoyed.

He’d knocked for three minutes before the door was whipped open again. Zev was now there with a make-shift stake, holding it tightly.

“What the fuck do you want?” he growled.

“I just need to know who someone is and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

At this, Zev scoffed. “You’re Dracula. Aren’t you all-knowing?”

If Dracula could have narrowed his eyes more, he would have. “Funny.”

Zev motioned in irritation for Dracula to continue.

“I need to know who Landon Princeton is. Tell me and I’ll go.”

In reply, Zev stood there awkwardly, looking Dracula over with nothing but judgment. Then he snorted. “You’re joking, right? What, do you plan on becoming a crime lord, too? Planning on killing him? You’re an idiot. Go away.”

“He’s a-“

Zev went to shut the door, but Dracula shoved his foot in it so that he couldn’t. Panic was settling in the back of his head.

“He’s a crime lord?”

A groan sounded from the other man, but he opened the door again anyway. “He’s _the_ crime lord. There are five… I don’t know, sub Mafia groups in New York, and he’s at the top of the food chain in all of them. He’s a badass. I wouldn’t fuck with him.”

Dracula snorted. “Do I need to remind you I’m a vampire? Humans can’t kill me.”

“Oh, I bet,” Zev mumbled flatly. He didn’t even have to look at the stake to indicate what he meant.

“I mean _normal_ humans. Not idiots –“ Dracula sighed, closing his mouth and trying to think of a better word- “Not _people_ who have made friends with an experienced vampire hunter.”

“What do you want, Dracula?” Zev asked. The stake was still clutched in his hands like a lifeline, so he clearly hadn’t let his guard down yet. “Why do you need to know about Landon?”

Dracula rolled his eyes, looking to the side. “They’ve kidnapped Jack,” he whispered.

“They what?”

“They… they kidnapped Jack,” Dracula repeated, louder this time. He glared at Zev, knowing exactly what sort of response he was in for.

“Oh. Oh! Oh, so let me get this straight. You’ve forced Jack to live with you, kidnapped him a few times, nearly gotten him killed, and the second you take him away from me, you can’t even keep your eyes on him? What, were you sleeping in your fucking coffin? Killing some poor girl in an alleyway?”

“I was carrying him out of a burning house,” Dracula spat, resisting the urge to throw Zev into his house and rip his throat out. Now would be the perfect opportunity to get this man out of his and Jack’s hair, but no, at this point he had to conveniently _need him_ for something.

“What the fuck was Jack doing in a burning house?!” Zev nearly screamed, eyes wide.

“I – well, if it were up to me, he wouldn’t have _been_ in a burning house,” Dracula replied, scoffing. “But – but I had Markus take him to his house, and then he drugged him, and then I killed Markus, and then – and then it turned out Markus was part of the mafia, and then two other mafia members showed up trying to kill Jack. One of them set the house on fire while the other locked me in the basement. I took Jack to the hospital but I… I couldn’t go in.”

Zev looked like he was about to pass out from shock. He shook his head, closing his eyes and taking in deep breaths. Then he cleared his throat. “So Landon checked him out of the hospital?”

“Yes,” Dracula whispered.

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Zev scoffed, setting the stake down on the table beside the door, and then he crossed his arms. He took in a few more deep breaths before sighing. “Well, I told you who Landon is.”

“Right,” Dracula mumbled. “I actually… I might need your help for this next part.”

“Need my – oh, but Dracula,” Zev mocked, “you’re a vampire. Humans can’t kill you.”

Dracula narrowed his eyes.

“Can’t you sniff him out?” Zev mumbled.

“The only people that I can trace to his scent are dead,” Dracula growled. “Why wouldn’t you help me? We’d be saving Jack.”

“Because why would I try to get him back with you, Dracula? Hm? You abused him, drank from him, forced him to stay with you – I don’t want that for him.”

“And so you think the mafia can do better for him?” he scoffed.

“Maybe.”

This was ridiculous. _That_ was ridiculous – so ridiculous that Dracula couldn’t help himself, and he shoved Zev into his house, slamming the door shut behind him. There, he towered over the boy, glaring down at him with as much rage as he could muster. Which, when thinking about Zev, was more than he was used to.

“There’s actually nothing keeping me from killing you,” Dracula said. “Jack isn’t here, the police aren’t here, and you’re just a little man with a big mouth. I could rip your throat out. But you know why I haven’t yet? Do you know why I didn’t stay behind and kill you that night at your house?”

The other boy only glared back, not breaking eye contact.

“Because I know it would hurt Jack,” Dracula finished. “I knew he would be devastated if he knew he’d lost three of his friends because of me, and I don’t want to be the one to send him into that lonely, _dead_ mindset.”

He stepped back, thinking he was done. But he wasn’t.

“And do you want to know something, Zev?” he added. “Jack _doesn’t_ hate me.”

Hearing the words come from his mouth felt like he was singing. And knowing they were actually the truth felt even better.

“We kissed. We talked. We _laughed_. I want what’s best for him not because he’s my- my blood bag or my hostage, but because he’s _mine_. And I’m fucking his.”

Once he’d finished his speech, he stepped back, letting out a huff. It was good that he’d said all of that.

“So you better help me,” Dracula whispered, “or I will make sure he knows how shitty of a friend you are. Maybe then I could kill you.”

They were silent, then. Both of them just stared at each other – Dracula with much more hatred than Zev, because rather than the boy’s usual arrogant or irritated look, he was actually slowly forming a smile.

Well, that was something Dracula had _never_ Zev do.

“Alright, fine. I’ll help you.”

Dracula let out a slow breath, releasing some weird tension in his body that had originated from yelling about how much he liked Jack.

“If,” Zev continued, “you promise not to be an ass the entire time.”

At this, Dracula could only scoff. “Fine. Anything to get Jack back.”

“You might not be the worst guy, _Count Dracula_.”

The vampire hummed in response.

“We do have a problem, though.”

“Hm?”

“The closest person I know that’s in the mafia is… across the city.”

“And?”

“And I don’t have a car.”

The idea of sitting in a taxi for hours with Zev wasn’t exactly appealing, but Jack was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i put this chapter out a day early bcuz it's boring... would it be okay if the next chapter was from jack's perspective or would that be confusing? bcuz i've been doing two chapters for each person... it's up to y'all ;)
> 
> also, NO  
> dracula and zev getting together is NOT an option, plz don't think they're flirting nonono


	19. Iatrophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iatrophobia - the fear of doctors

It was never a good thing to wake up in a different place than you’d fallen asleep, but that was the situation Jack was in, which had happened three times at this point. Anxiously, he sat up, only to be reminded that he had a bullet wound in his chest. He gasped out, clasping his hand over the wound.

At least this time he’d woken up with a shirt on.

Glancing around, he found he was in a normal-looking room. And, unlike the first time he’d woken up, he wasn’t chained to the bed. He was only held back by the wound in his arm and chest, but otherwise… wherever he was, he was free to leave.

Jack bit his lip, throwing the covers off himself and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. The sweatpants from the hospital hung on him as well as the sweater, acting as though he was a clothing hanger and the clothing were hanging on… nothing.

What a bad analogy.

He stood up slowly, allowing the pain to come and go. It soon resorted to just being a low throbbing in his chest. Now unencumbered by the excruciating pain of a bullet hole, which he still was having trouble grasping as something that had actually happened to him, he was able to walk around the room very slowly.

It hurt to walk, as he would assume it would after having been passed out for however long. But the layout of the room made it worth it.

In one corner, there was a bookcase that was bent to accommodate the corner, resulting in too many books than Jack knew what to do with. In another corner was a wooden desk. The room was small, and the bed he’d been in took up about a fourth of the room, leaving little for walking space.

The door was between the desk and the bookshelf, somehow so evenly placed there that one might assume the door was put in after they’d decorated the room.

Along the ceiling, though, were fairy lights. They were the only source of light in the room, which was strange, considering Jack was pretty sure he was somewhere connected to Landon. And if Landon was the crime lord of _all of New York_ , it wasn’t likely that fairy lights were his thing.

So where was he?

Jack approached the door, reaching for the handle and twisting gently. It was locked and remained still under his gentle tug.

Instantaneously, his entire world set on fire. The room was engulfed in flames, shattering everything real and becoming only and solely a fire. It raged inches from his face, skimming his toes and licking his face. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew it was there.

Jack let out a hoarse gasp, feeling his lungs fill with the smoke.

What was this?

“You’re hallucinating, Jack,” said a stronger voice.

Jack blinked a few times – whether he was clearing away tears or smoke, he wasn’t sure – and glanced to the origin of the voice. Jonathan. He stood in the middle of the flames, unmoving and unharmed. Smiling, even.

“Take a few deep breaths, right? Just… relax. The fire can’t hurt you.”

Everything vanished when the door opened, forcing Jack to acknowledge the fact that it had, in fact, been a hallucination. Right. So now he was not only prone to being forced into a box, but also into a raging fire.

Hallucinations were a common side effect of intense trauma. Certainly he could get over it with medication… but when would he be going to a pharmacy next? He’d been kidnapped and shoved in places and what have you so many times that it seemed impossible to get a moment to himself.

“Jack Seward, correct?” asked a soft voice.

Jack blinked, bringing himself back to the moment. Standing in front of him was Landon – _the_ crime lord. The man who made all the decisions in the mafia, the man who conducted all of it like some puppet master. He was standing in front of Jack clad in only a white t-shirt and jeans as if this wasn’t a business meeting.

But certainly, it had to be, because why else would Landon want him there? If not for business, then… it had to be death.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“Landon Princeton. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said the man. He spoke smoothly, like he had no insecurities or second guesses. He extended his hand – for a handshake?

 _What a world he must live in_ , thought Jack.

Going to shake hands with the man, he found that his own hand was covered in blood. He swallowed dryly, drawing his hand back and staring down at it dumbly. That was embarrassing.

“You’re a little bit of a badass, Jack,” said Landon. He smiled gently, motioning to the bed. “I can’t even begin to describe how… fascinating you are. Come, sit down.”

Still unable to grasp the idea that this man had just called Jack a badass, he went to sit down on the bed. The world was spinning a little, whether that was literal or metaphorical, he couldn’t tell. But nothing was standing still and his head felt like it might float off sometime soon.

Landon pulled the chair from the desk up beside the bed, sitting in front of Jack. Then he gripped the sides of Jack’s sweater, beginning to pull up.

What the fuck was he doing?

Jack didn’t fight him, though, knowing that it very well could have been the last thing he did.

The crime lord took his sweater off, revealing the grisly, bloodied bandage wrapped around Jack’s torso. It was the same one from the hospital, so he could at least rest assured he hadn’t been touched in his time unconscious. Though he could have been –

It wasn’t worth thinking about.

Jack sighed, looking down at the bandage.

“I think we need to clean this,” Landon mused. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in between. His eyes wandered over to Jack’s arm bandage. It wasn’t quite as bloody, probably because the wound wasn’t as severe, but it did have blood on it. “Yeah. I’ll get the medic over here, and we can get you cleaned up. Do you want a show-“

“Sorry,” Jack interrupted, instantly feeling like an absolute idiot for saying anything at all, “sorry, but why am I here?”

“Pardon?” Landon asked, sitting up straight and crossing one leg over the other. He shared many mannerisms with the detective and Jack was inclined to believe that it had actually been the detective to steal them from Landon.

“Why… Why am I here? You took me out of the hospital. I was supposed to stay there and recover a little longer, but… I didn’t because of you.”

 _You like running your mouth, don’t you?_ Jack hissed to himself. _Bet it gets you off knowing you’re being a complete dumbass to the biggest crime lord in New York, if not all of America._

“That’s an excellent question,” Landon said, startling Jack out of his self-deprecating rant. “Let me say this: you are a very interesting man, Jack. Needless to say, I know all about you. Your parents, your hallucinations, your relationship with Dracula, and, most importantly, your training to be a vampire hunter.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“That probably sounds strange, doesn’t it?” Landon hummed. He looked to the side, though there wasn’t a window, so Jack wondered what he was looking at other than just the wall. It didn’t take long for the man to look back at him, smiling gently. “Before you get scared, the answer is no. Our goal isn’t to kill Dracula. We believe he’s imperative to the way New York runs.”

“It… doesn’t make sense for you to think that,” Jack said, looking down at his hands. They were bloody.

Really, he couldn’t remember a time his hands weren’t bloody or messy. He couldn’t remember the last time his hands had been as immaculate as he needed them.

“Dracula is… science. He’s new and interesting and just different to everything we know about the world,” Landon said, and Jack felt a giddy sort of excitement rise in his chest. Because Landon was _right_. Dracula was so much more than anyone knew. “And I believe that having this… man walking around New York, doing crazy things that people who don’t know about vampires won’t understand… I think watching the way society reacts to these things is incredibly interesting.”

Jack wanted to giggle. Really, _this_ was the way New York’s crime lord thought? This was what was running through his head when he considered vampires? It was a pleasant surprise, to say the least.

“Would you agree, Jack?” Landon pried.

They met eyes briefly. In that moment, Landon looked like a puppy who was about to be given a treat. His green eyes were wide, gentle, polite. And the ever so slight upturn of his lips was enough to make Jack whisper, “Y-Yes, I’d agree. I just… don’t understand why you’d need me.”

Landon was quiet for a second before sighing through his nose, looking down at his hands in thought. As if it were an anxious habit, the man twiddled his thumbs. Then he cleared his throat. “I’m aware your mother is a vampire, and… she’s still alive, in police custody.”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Yeah,” said Jack.

“She, being a vampire, does have vampire qualities and tendencies.” Landon lifted his chin as if debating how to continue his comment politely. “She’s bitten people and, well, she’s killed them. Now, like I said, I don’t mind watching crazy things happen because of vampires, but I do mind when it’s bringing down New York’s actual population by unjust numbers. I mean, she’s producing little baby vampires like a rabbit might produce – well, I’m sure you get that, don’t you?”

Jack didn’t want to dwell on that one too much, but he nodded.

“New York City’s police force is great. I really do think they’re doing great things for this city, but this state? There’s no way they can fill everyone in on the fact that vampires exist, get them to believe it, _and_ get them to act on it collectively. If they find that out, there’s a good chance many of them will cower or… well, who knows what will happen if we don’t intervene, is all I’m saying. Does that make sense?”

There was a little bit of hesitation from Jack. He’d had faith in the police before – he’d called them once, trying to get help from his parents. They thought it was a prank call when Jack said they were training him for vampire hunting. Needless to say, he’d been young and should’ve just said he was being abused, but it made it obvious that normal people – that was, people who didn’t grow up knowing about the reality of vampires – weren’t easily swayed.

“It does,” Jack said.

Landon smiled gently, leaning forward again. “Here’s where you come in, Dr. Seward. You actually have lived all worlds. You’ve trained to be a vampire hunter _and_ you’ve experienced vampires _and_ you know about the science of them.”

Jack didn’t want to say it, but the science of vampires was that there _was_ no science to them. There was no real connection to blood and people living forever. Plus it wasn’t like scientists had enough time to look into Dracula’s blood to see if there was some magical element in it. Though even if they had, Jack wasn’t sure he would know about it, what with how he hadn’t had anything to do with the experiment.

Come to think of it, he’d been incredibly distant from the lab, and who had noticed?

 _It doesn’t matter_ , Jack thought to himself, _because you’re Dracula’s number one. And that’s important. He’s proved it._

Smothering a smile, Jack looked down to his hands again. He picked off some dried blood. “So what do you want me to do?”

Landon ran a hand through his hair, allowing it to fall back into place messily. Then he tapped his left hand against his knee, clearly in thought. “Our plan is to try to wipe vampires out of New York. We don’t necessarily care about the vampires that have spread to bordering states or even not bordering states – we just care about keeping New York clean of the infestation.”

“They’re still people,” Jack countered quietly, looking up at Landon through his eyelashes. Quickly, he glanced back down to his hands. “Dracula’s the realest person I’ve ever met. We… we can’t just kill them.”

Silence made Jack anxiously look up at the man, clenching his fists. But Landon was smiling at him. It was a real smile, too. Not some weird forced one and not one that had some second intention. It was a real smile.

“You’re so _humane_ , Jack,” Landon whispered. He sounded almost in awe. “And that’s… I think that’s another reason we need you here. You can be our moral compass, Jack, because God knows we don’t have one in the mafia.”

Jack could only chuckle, blushing. His gaze wandered back down to his hands.

“Here’s what I want you to do,” Landon said. His voice was still gentle, almost akin to a breeze, but that was a weird analogy. However, it was the only one that worked perfectly. “You’re going to lead my people in organizing a way to group all the vampires together. We won’t kill them – clearly, that’s not the way to go, but … maybe we can develop a way for vampires and humans to co-exist. How’s that?”

The only thing Jack could think to say was, “That’s perfect.”

Because really, it was. The humane way of dealing with vampires was by _talking_. By introducing them to gentle feeding methods, to ways to cope with who they’d become.

It sounded perfect.

“No, _you’re_ perfect. Now I can see why we needed you. You’re just amazing,” Landon grinned. He got up from the chair, still smiling brightly. It was a controlled smile, though. Somehow, he still looked cool even though he sounded like a child who’d been given his first dog. “I’ll get a medic in here and we can start on getting a plan together.”

Jack smiled numbly, watching Landon leave. The door shut.

And then it locked.

The sound was hollow and left Jack wondering what the fuck he’d just said.

It was good, though. He’d made a good plan with Landon.

The smile on Jack’s face widened until he couldn’t suppress it as much as he’d like, and he found himself collapsing back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. This was a good thing he’d done. Vampires and humans could live together, and Dracula could keep doing his dumb shit, and…

He missed Dracula. Already.

The door opened again. There stood a girl in white overalls over a pale pink shirt. Her hair was orange, tied in two ponytails loosely that was thrown over her shoulders. Dimples showed as she smiled at Jack.

“Hi, there. I’m Candle. Can I change your bandages?”

Jack was taken aback for a moment, forgetting that there were people with these sorts of personalities. He’d been hanging around people with darker personalities for… well, since he’d started working at the lab that he’d forgotten that people could be upbeat and positive. Even the way she held herself screamed, ‘my favorite color is yellow and I don’t step on flowers’.

Numbly, he nodded, leaning back.

She came forward, setting her back on the floor and getting out a pair of scissors. Wordlessly, she began cutting off the bandages. Jack glanced down to find they were actually pretty healthy, which shouldn’t have been surprising considering the hospital cleaned them up, but it also was surprising since they hadn’t been cleaned for a while.

While glancing down, he was able to look at her hands and arms. Both were littered with bruises, which Jack felt inclined to ask about. He didn’t, though, because that was probably rude.

Except then he couldn’t stop himself when she pulled up her sleeves to put on gloves, revealing yet more hurts.

“How’d you get the bruises?” he whispered, suppressing a chill as she began to rub ointment on the wound. It didn’t hurt, as he had suspected it would. She was outrageously gentle, almost as if she wasn’t even applying any pressure at all.

Her eyes wandered down to her arms before she chuckled quietly. “Sometimes I mess up. We all do,” she replied. “How’d you get these bullet holes?”

“Killian,” Jack said, wondering if she knew who he was.

Apparently, she did, because she glanced up at him with deep brown eyes. “Seriously? That’s crazy. I’m surprised you don’t have any burns, honestly – it was a house fire, right?”

Jack tried not to remember the fire and came up with something else to say in order to change the subject. “Is your real name Candle?”

There was a moment of silence where she seemed to reel from the sudden change, but she caught up quickly, shaking her head. “Nope. They just call me Candle around here because I talk a lot and the joke used to be that I was burning my candle at both ends by talking so much and by not doing my job right. It’s silly. My real name is Kindle, so that’s probably where they got it from.”

“Oh,” Jack whispered.

“Did you know they wanted me to use fire to heal their wounds? They thought it would be badass, but I told them that when we have _normal_ medical supplies around, you really don’t need to do any of that, but they-” Candle went quiet, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. Her look of outrage soon turned into a very nice, very delighted smile as she seemed to realize something. “Hey… you’re a doctor, too. That’s so cool. Do you know what I’m talking about, then?”

Jack couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah,” he grinned, rolling his eyes. He looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> candleisnotaloveinterestbecausejackisgay
> 
> anyway
> 
> on another note, i fucking love candle? she's baby??
> 
> also i know this chapter prolly wasn't as interesting as y'all had hoped :( sorry
> 
> ily tho and thx for reading


	20. Galeophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galeophobia - the fear of sharks

Sitting in a taxi with Zev hadn’t been as bad as Dracula had originally thought, which was a very relieving thing to think about. The boy had a phone and was able to be completely silent the entire time, though occasionally he would glance up at Dracula and snort, saying something along the lines of, “You’re so lost without him.”

And that was very much true. Dracula’s whole existence had become swarmed around the idea that he needed Jack. He’d spent hours trying to get him back, fighting with him, and, in a few glorious moments, existing pleasantly with him. Their relationship had blossomed so beautifully and finally, Jack had _kissed_ him. And then he got shot twice and kidnapped from the hospital.

How was his luck so nonexistent?

Well, luck didn’t exist. That was how.

The drive was two hours of Zev scrolling through whatever and Dracula thinking about how he was going to yell at whoever they’d come across for Jack’s location because Lord knew he was going to have no restraint when it came to getting him back.

They came across a thrift shop with a hearty welcome sign outside. On the inside, Dracula could see a bearded man was running it with tattoos similar to Markus’ snaking up his neck. Other than that, Dracula couldn’t tell much about the man but the fact that the tattoos didn’t suit him and neither did the ridiculously kind smile on his face.

“He’s retired, isn’t he?” Dracula mumbled.

“We can’t talk to a man who’s _actually_ in the mafia, Dracula. I guess I have to do the thinking for the two of us.”

Dracula was quiet in reply, swallowing down an equally snarky response. They got out of the car, paying the cab driver before walking into the store.

It smelled like what he’d assumed it would from the outside – that was, dusty. But the atmosphere otherwise screamed everything but ‘I’m an ex-mafia member, be ready to get into a fistfight with me,’ which was incredibly disappointing.

“Zev!” called the man behind the counter.

“Mr. Princeton,” Zev smiled. His entire demeanor changed instantly, from the rude, holier-than-thou gig to a more childish attitude that was garnished with a bounce in his step. “It’s so nice to see you again. How are things holding up?”

“Very well,” sang Mr. Princeton. “What can I do for you and your… friend today? I’ve got some new succulents in if you’d like to check those out? They’re in the back. Can I show you?”

Zev put his hands in his pockets. He’d changed into a sleek leather jacket and skinny jeans topped with a black hat that made him seem like a man who might ride a motorcycle, but the way he held himself gave away every indication that he was incredibly gay and desired to ride something other than a motorcycle.

In order to avoid suspicion, he’d made Dracula change into a white button-up with a tan overcoat. It was too – well, he didn’t know the word, but it wasn’t particularly Dracula’s style. Specifically the white, but when he’d requested anything darker, Zev had added that he was the one wearing the dark clothing and there was no way the duo would work if they were wearing the same color scheme. Except, Dracula had wanted to point out but hadn’t for fear of looking like an idiot, wasn’t that the whole idea of duos?

“Do you remember Jack?” Zev asked, motioning for Dracula to follow Mr. Princeton as well.

Zev had to know what he was doing, right? He wouldn’t just fuck around while Jack was in the hands of Landon Princeton, probably dying, probably getting brutally tortured for facts about Lord knew what, probably, worse, _crying_ , and-

“Ah, yes!” hummed Mr. Princeton. “Oh, goodness, Jack. What a sweetheart. Do you know he came by and bought a little crossbow off of me for double the price I’d asked? He said something silly about needing it for the monsters under his bed… I can’t remember how young he was at that point.”

If Dracula could have lost his breath, he would have. The idea that Jack had been young enough to believe in monsters under his bed at the point that he’d purchased a crossbow to _kill vampires_ with was beyond him entirely. How his parents could have been so neglectful to make the child buy his own weapons, too – well, he had to stop thinking about it, or else he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from finding his mother and killing her again.

“We need a little help finding him,” Zev said. He leaned over to look at the succulents on the wall, smiling fondly at them.

Dracula paused, realizing perhaps did have a soul; when it came to plants, at least.

Mr. Princeton chuckled. “I doubt I could be much help, Zev. I’m just an old man with a thrift shop. I haven’t even seen him in… oh, years? I don’t think I can help you all that much.”

At this, the boy picked up a little succulent and straightened his back. Then he met eyes with Mr. Princeton. “He’s been kidnapped by Landon. And-“

“Son,” Mr. Princeton interrupted, demeanor strict now, firm, “you know I don’t mess with them anymore. He said I could leave as long as I kept my mouth shut and I’m not getting messed up with them again. It was hard getting away from him.”

He sounded scared. He sounded like a coward.

“But it’s Jack,” Zev said. He looked down at the succulent, biting his lip. “He and I used to buy these plants all the time in your shop. He would bring you bagels on Saturdays when his parents were away. He’s as much of a son to you as Landon, if not more, Mr. Princeton.”

It made so much sense that Dracula couldn’t help but feel ashamed that he hadn’t put it together soon it. Hell, neither of them had even changed their last names.

“I love Jack, but I also love living,” Mr. Princeton hissed. “Landon would kill me if he knew I was even mentioning him. I’m sorry, son, but I can’t say anything.”

There was silence between the three of them. The only thing Dracula could think to do was glare, but then he rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“Why did you even leave in the first place if you were going to continue being a bad person?” he whispered.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Princeton asked, eyes going wide. He was an old man, and the wrinkles around his eyes sunk as he drew his eyebrows together.

“Why did you leave your son?” Dracula murmured, looking down at the man.

Mr. Princeton scoffed as if even answering the question was beyond him, but he stammered up an answer. “S-So that I wouldn’t have to kill people. Or watch him kill people. O-Or be associated with anything related to harming people – why does it matter?”

“Because my Jack,” Dracula spat, slamming his hand on the wall, “Jack Seward, the little kid that bought a crossbow from you and bought you bagels, is going to _die_ if we don’t find him. And because you’re not helping us, you’re remaining the same man you thought you’d killed. He’s still alive, Mr. Princeton. And he’s not too far from the surface.”

The silence that followed was thicker than before. Zev didn’t even breathe, and Mr. Princeton hardly blinked. He only stared with wide eyes at Dracula. Eventually Zev scoffed, though it sounded more like a chuckle. He lowered his head to quietly admire the succulent he’d picked up.

“Fine,” Mr. Princeton spat after a while, running a hand through his incredibly thin white hair. “Fine. I’ll tell you where Jack most likely is. Just… please don’t tell Landon you were even here. Alright?”

Dracula nodded his agreement.

Mr. Princeton sighed, going to sit down at a chair along the wall. He cradled his head in his hands, rubbing them along his cheeks. Then he cleared his throat. “Landon owns a mansion along the coast – it’s where he lives and sometimes it’s where he keeps his hostages. I can give you the address, but… if you can’t find him, please don’t come back. A-Alright?”

“Thank you, Mr. Princeton,” Zev said. “Genuinely.” He knelt down in front of the old man, smiling. “How much for the succulent?”

“Take it,” Mr. Princeton mumbled. He got up. “It only costs your word that you won’t come back.”

Dracula glanced around the thrift shop, finding a chain necklace with silly little silver fangs on it. He grinned, picking it up by the left tooth.

A small knife jutted out, making Dracula jolt ever so slightly. He glanced at the blade before chuckling softly, looking to Mr. Princeton. “You have my word, too,” he said, pocketing the necklace.

They left after they got the address, finding another cab. The drive there would only be about thirty minutes, which allowed Dracula to relax a little.

They’d get to Jack soon.

The mansion was larger than he’d anticipated. It was as though someone had taken his old castle and condensed it into a more understandable, less dizzying abode, which was certainly saying something. There were many windows, allowing them to see that the inside was equally large and had plenty of plants and green and white colors. It looked… healthy.

Dracula was quick to unbuckle and bolt out of the car, having to pace himself as he approached the front door.

The sound of Zev’s heeled boots scurrying behind him was slightly amusing, but he didn’t dwell on it. The only thing he could about was how close he was to getting Jack and going right back to his apartment and coddling him until he felt right again. And then… things would be right.

“Might want to be a little more discrete,” Zev said just as Dracula knocked on the front door. “Alright, never mind.”

There were gadgets on the wall beside them, perhaps like an intercom or something, but it wasn’t used. Rather, the door opened to reveal a ginger clad in white with a bright smile. It instantly dropped when she saw Dracula and Zev.

“Hi, there,” she whispered, her smile now forced, revealing a gap between her front teeth. “What can I do for you?”

She was short – like five feet tall with the white sneakers she was wearing that seemed to give her a height boost. Dracula had to tilt his head down to look at her, taking in a shaky breath. It wasn’t because he needed it, but because Jack did it when he was stressed, too.

“Jack Seward. Is he here?” he asked.

“Are you… Dracula?” she asked in return.

“Answer me first.”

She bit her lip, looking behind her before clearing her throat and directing her gaze to the top of the door. Dracula glanced up without moving his head, finding a camera blinking red down at them. It had a view of the entire inside of the house as well. How invasive… but he supposed when you were rich, like Landon most certainly was, security was never taken too far.

“Please go home,” she whispered. “He isn’t here.”

Zev scoffed, bringing Dracula’s attention to him. “I bet he is here,” he growled. “And if you don’t tell us where he is, we’re going to force our way in here.”

“Maybe try being a little more discrete,” Dracula mocked under his breath, casting a glare to Zev.

“I’m being honest, he isn’t here,” the girl continued, gripping the door handle tightly. She swallowed hoarsely, going to shut the door, but Dracula wedged his foot in before she managed. He’d had to do that twice today and it was starting to feel personal.

“Believe me, dear,” Dracula said, pushing the door open easily. She stumbled back, tears in her eyes now. “I’m much stronger than you are. Save us both the effort and tell me where he is or, so help me, I will rip your teeth out one by one and make you swallow them like pills.”

Her face went pale – or, paler than it already was, and she sniffed shakily. “He’s not here. Please don’t-“

Zev stepped forward this time, delivering a punch to her jaw. Her head snapped to the left with an uncomfortable sound and she collapsed to the floor.

Perhaps he was stronger than he let on.

“Tell us where he is,” Zev spat through his teeth, “or he _will_ feed you your teeth.”

She lifted her head, a hand against her lip where it was most likely bleeding. Dracula had to get out of here soon, which he would be able to do as soon as she told them where Jack was.

“H-He’s… down the hall to the left,” she admitted, spitting out blood. Teary-eyed, she pressed her back to the wall as Dracula and Jack walked past her.

Down the hall and to the left. Down the hall and to the left. Down the hall and-

His eyes fell upon the door handle. It was gold and, from the angle they were standing, they could see the door. On it was imprinted the letter J.

“What a fucking creep,” Zev murmured.

Dracula wasn’t listening. He rushed for the door, twisting the handle as fast as was humanely possible. “Jack?” he called-

But there was no one in the room. It was a storage room if anything. Hands already beginning to shake, he reached for the light switch on the wall and flipped it on. Still, there was nothing in the room. Only boxes upon boxes upon boxes upon _fucking box-_

“Dracula,” Zev uttered.

He whirled to find Zev with something shiny pointing out of his jacket.

And there was someone standing behind him.

No, he’d been stabbed.

 _No_.

Zev coughed out blood, collapsing to his knees. Behind him was a tall man with a snarky grin, holding the bloody knife in his hand. He pouted when he saw Dracula’s expression before bringing the knife to his mouth and drawing his tongue slowly… slowly up the blade.

“I will fucking kill you,” Dracula growled.

He took strides towards the man only to come face-to-face with something solid, but there was nothing in front of him. Dracula let out a hoarse gasp, stepping back to look at what was holding him back. It was nothing. Literally, there was nothing. But he could feel a presence.

“What the fuck is this?” he breathed, glaring at the man who now had a red tongue.

The man snickered, sticking his tongue out. Blood fell from it, splattering to the ground. Dracula could smell it but forced himself to focus on the man.

“It’s America’s newest, greatest, bestest technology,” the man sang with his bloody smile. “Thank the great old Elon Musk for this one because it came right out of his lab and into-“ the man did a rocket dropping motion into his palm- “Landon’s house.”

“So this is Landon’s house?” Dracula growled. “Landon Princeton?”

“It was,” hummed the man. He shrugged. “But then he went off with a boy and now no one can find him, but now I have you, and the boss is going to be _real_ happy with this when he comes back.”

“Jack,” Dracula mouthed. “What does he want with Jack?”

The man giggled excitedly, shrugging melodramatically. “Fuck if I know, loser! I’m just doing my _fucking_ job by keeping bitches like you in cages.” He pointed the knife to Dracula and the only thing he could focus on was the ruby-colored liquid in front of him. It smelled like perfume.

“As for this little psycho,” continued the man, looking down to Zev, “let’s try and figure out how long it takes for you to get _real_ hungry.”

Swooping down, the man hooked his arms under Zev’s and pushed. He fell through easily, but when Dracula went to push on the invisible force, he couldn’t. It was one way, then, he supposed.

And Zev was bleeding at his feet.

With blood that smelled like heaven to a man who hadn’t had anything to eat for days.

“Good luck, puppy. Don’t eat all your food at once, alright?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spooky
> 
> next chapter is jack's and then we're back on schedule with two chapters per person
> 
> anyway how y'all feelin about the direction of the story? it's kinda almost over and idk what to do once it's done... help :(


	21. Proditiophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proditiophobia - the fear of being betrayed

It didn’t take Jack long to realize he was underground. Between the way it got outrageously cold, the fact that there were no windows, and the dullness of the thud that resounded when Jack knocked on the wall, it was obvious. When the door opened – by whom it was only opened by Candle or Landon – a waft of cold air rushed in, chilling Jack to the point where he started covering himself up whenever someone knocked.

The only way he could tell the time was by the giant clock above the door, which told him the time was 9 at night. He liked keeping track of the time because, aside from reading, it was the only way he could be associated with real life. Or remember what day it was.

He had only been there for a day, though. The way he described it was a prison, but he knew it wasn’t that at all – Landon was just keeping him here because he needed to recover before they could get to work on establishing a coexistence between vampires and humans. It wouldn’t be hard, but it would take effort, and Jack couldn’t put much in.

When he’d requested to talk to Dracula, Landon chuckled and asked him if the vampire even had a phone. The answer was no, and even if he did, Jack didn’t know the number. He knew Zev’s number, but when he called, he didn’t answer.

“Better luck next time,” Landon hummed.

He’d came in for dinner, sitting across from Jack on his bed with his legs crossed. He was picking at grapes, pulling one from the stem and chewing at it slowly. The man was weird because rather than just eating the whole grape, he took bites out of it. Usually two, but sometimes he managed to make a grape last three bites, and Jack was tempted to tell him he was probably a psychopath.

That sounded like a bad idea, though.

“I’m hoping we can start tomorrow,” Landon said. He looked up at Jack, green eyes shining. “Do you think you’ll be up for it?”

Jack didn’t feel up to it, not really, but he knew this was a big deal – not just for Landon, not even just for his gang, but for the entirety of New York. And if everything went well, maybe even for all of America. Vampires were going to continue to spread like wildfires if they didn’t do something. If Jack could come up with a good enough plan to keep everyone satisfied, though… maybe humans wouldn’t even notice.

He smiled. “Sure.”

Landon’s smile widened. “That’s great. That’s really good – thank you, Jack. You really don’t know how much this means to everyone. We need you. You’re the only one that can make everything work.”

 _The only one_.

Jack smothered a smile by looking down at his food, picking absently at the vegetable bowl he’d been given. It wasn’t a salad because there wasn’t any lettuce or spinach, but rather, it was just a bowl, with carrots and cucumbers and an assortment of things. The people here had strange taste and assumed others did as well.

“I’ll get Candle in here to see if there’s anything she can do for your wounds, and then I intend for you to rest up. Okay?”

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, he wasn’t really sure. He bit his lip before glancing up at Landon. The man was sitting there, placing all of his attention on Jack with the same bright smile, eyes practically glowing in the fairy lights.

It was strange to Jack how someone could possess so many beautiful traits. The smile, the intense listening, the exact amount of eye contact that wasn’t uncomfortable but also let you know he saw you.

But Dracula was something completely different. Something not even comparable to men, to people, to _humans_. He was something else entirely. And the fact that Jack even had to explain that to himself was startling.

No, Dracula was the one. And Landon was a random crime lord.

“Sleep well,” Jack said.

“You, too,” Landon replied. He got off the bed. “See you tomorrow, Doctor Seward.”

Landon was gone soon enough, and in his place was Candle with her usual medical supplies.

It had been six hours since she’d last come in. Already, things were different about her. Her smile faltered, her hair was down, and her lip was split. That along with a black eye caused Jack to sit up in curiosity and slight panic.

“What happened to you?” Jack mumbled, drawing his eyebrows together.

Candle only smiled and whispered, “I messed up again.”

“How?” Jack asked. He numbly took his shirt off, watching her pull the chair up beside the bed again and sitting in it delicately. Her skinny ankles crossed over each other; her hands folded in her lap. She was small, and she didn’t deserve whatever she got. “How did you mess up?”

The girl only shrugged. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it.”

This brought a small grin to Jack’s lips. “Miss Candle,” he teased. “Are you saying you won’t talk to me?”

He saw a smile twitch at the side of her lips, so he continued.

“Miss Candle,” he pried. “The girl who’s been nicknamed _Candle_ because she talks too much, and she refuses to tell me about her badass moments?”

“You know,” she interrupted, looking up at him with a grin, “you talk really strong for someone who sounds so shy.”

“Hello, kettle,” he countered.

It was true, though. Despite how strong his words were, his tone was always soft and nervous. There was no doubt it was his parents doing. Partly, it was annoying, but also partly, it was nice, because Candle seemed easily startled. Having a soft tone seemed only good for him around her.

Around Dracula, on the other hand, he was able to easily speak with a bit more of a punch in his tone. But that was because he’d grown so comfortable with the vampire, despite having tried running away from him a few times.

“Well,” began Candle, pulling down the bandage to look over the wound, “someone was at the door, and… they got mad because I couldn’t give them what they wanted. It was my fault, but it’s over now.”

“They hit you twice?” Jack said, glancing down to his wound as well. It didn’t look awful and was clearly getting better, but it still ached. He couldn’t even put Killian in jail for it because he was incinerated. “That sounds excessive.”

Candle was quiet for a second before shrugging. “It’s alright.”

Jack sighed. “Who were they? I’ll go beat them up.”

“I don’t think you’re in the right condition to beat anyone up, Mr. Two-Bullets-and-Trauma.” She paused, only to snicker. “That doesn’t sound very bad for a nickname.”

“Please,” Jack groaned, “spare me.”

She only smiled softly, going to tend to the bandage on his arm. After looking it over, she leaned back. “Well, you look fine. I think you’ll live through the night, but past that, there’s no telling. But,” she added, “considering you made it to the hospital after getting shot twice and nearly getting swallowed by a house fire… I think you’re strong enough to make it at least another day or two.”

“Very helpful, doc, thanks,” he whispered.

“Any time, Mr. Two-Bullets-and-Trauma.”

He rolled his eyes, watching her walk out with her medical kit.

Jack couldn’t really remember the last time he’d had to be treated by a doctor. Usually he did everything for himself, unless it was something to do in the lab and the other doctors needed help figuring out how to use something. He’d let them test on him, but that was the extent of it.

The closest he’d gotten to getting help from someone was Dracula. Twice. Once, when he’d cleaned him in the bathtub, and again when he’d cleaned the blood from under his nails. And again, when he’d taken care of his palm after he’d cut it open for Zoe.

He slipped his sweatshirt back on, leaning back and staring at the wall after.

A grin slipped to his lips at the thought of tomorrow.

Jack awoke to the door being thrown open. He jolted up, anxiously glancing around the room, his hand falling on the first object he was able to get ahold of – that was, a pencil. Quickly, Jack dropped it before he let his mind wander to the last time he’d held a pencil for an attack.

Landon was at the door. The usual bright smile was cast over his face, illuminating his features. He held up a plate. “Good morning, Doctor Seward.”

“Good morning,” Jack grinned. He sat up further, taking the plate from Landon. On it was an assortment of fruits along with a stack of three pancakes. Jack looked back up to Landon. “Are you spoiling me?”

“Maybe,” hummed Landon. He sat down on the side of Jack’s bed, grinning eagerly. “So we’re going to start planning for the vampires, right? You’re up for it?”

“I was thinking about it,” Jack said. He picked up a grape, putting it in his mouth with _one_ bite. He wished he had the courage to tell Landon that this was the right way to eat them and not with three bites, but he kept his mouth shut about it and began eating, covering his mouth as he spoke. “Every vampire has a connection to their creator. Jonathan Harker was bound to Dracula, my parents were bound to my mother’s parents… But everyone is bound to Dracula.”

This brought Landon pause as he thought about it. In his moment of musing, he picked up a strawberry and ate it.

Now, this he ate in one bite, which Jack couldn’t agree with, either. Strawberries were bigger fruits with a more intense taste and they required more like two bites, maybe even three, but never just one.

“So we need Dracula to get all the vampires together?”

“I’m thinking so,” Jack said. “But it shouldn’t be hard to get him here. I just need to talk to him.”

Landon sighed. “You can’t, though, you’re too weak,” he mumbled. His green eyes glanced up to the fairy lights, which were supposedly on a timer, because they had turned off before Jack fell asleep and were now shining again. “We can get him here. Don’t worry.”

The ominous wording was fairly concerning. “You’ll be nice to him, won’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Landon scoffed. He chuckled. “What, you think our entire plan of peacefully negotiating with the vampires to coexist with humans is going to start with forcing their leader to collaborate with us? I don’t think so. Besides, once he knows we have you, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince him we’re the good guys.”

A smile found its way to Jack’s face. It was easy to smile in this place. Between Candle and Landon, it seemed all he’d been doing was smiling. They were doing something good for everyone, and he was getting to be apart of a new era with a coexistence between vampires and humans. It was wonderful.

Landon reached out, taking Jack’s hand in his own. The man’s hand was warm and it soothed Jack from the coldness of his room. “Jack,” said Landon, “I’m really happy you’re here.”

Jack managed to look him in the eyes for a good few seconds before he glanced to the side, chuckling.

“What?”

“You just…” Jack sighed, glancing back to Landon. “You’re the crime lord of New York. And… you’re holding my hand.”

“Because I mean it, Jack,” Landon insisted. “I mean it when I say I… I need you here. You’re my number one already because you’re so… you’re just great.”

Jack smothered a smile.

However, his smile quickly vanished when Landon leaned in… slowly… and placed a delicate kiss on Jack’s cheek. Then he patted Jack’s knee and got up. “I’ll gather some men to find Dracula. And then we can start making a plan for them to coexist.”

Still a little numb, Jack managed a grin. “Sounds good,” he mouthed.

When Jack left, he was alone with his thoughts, which were not only thoughts, but also a physical representation of how he was feeling. That was, somehow, a hallucination of the burnt corpse of Killian, decorated with a pencil in the side of his neck.

He appeared in the chair beside Jack’s bed without any warning, manifesting with a smell included.

Jack coughed, anxiously glancing over to the man.

“You know he’s a better guy than Dracula,” said Killian. He shrugged. “Just saying.”

“You’re just saying that because he used to be your boss,” Jack mumbled, eating a grape. If he just ignored the hallucination for long enough, he’d go away.

“I’m saying that because I’m your subconscious, dipshit,” snapped Killian. He got up, walking over to the door. “And-“

“You need to leave.”

This was not Jack’s voice, and neither was it Killian’s, but it was Jonathan Harker’s. He was standing on the opposite side of Jack’s bed, glaring daggers at Killian as if either of them were real. But one of them wasn’t even remotely real and the other was a figment of Jack’s imagination from his blood.

“Oh, fuck,” Jack breathed.

“Dracula isn’t a bad guy,” Jonathan offered. “And if you think Landon is a good guy, explain the locked door. Explain why he hasn’t put any effort into contacting Dracula or even Zev before this. Explain why he felt the urge to take you out of the hospital without your permission.”

Jack drew his legs up to his chest and tucked his face into his knees, not wanting to be apart of this conversation. He knew he was going crazy. That much was obvious. But he didn’t want to entertain the hallucinations, because acknowledging they existed wasn’t a healthy start to getting rid of them. In fact, it did quite the opposite.

“Right, like those are _anything_ compared to what Dracula’s done,” said Killian. “Kidnapped Jack too many times, cut his cheek open – which is now a permanent scar, killed his father, _didn’t_ kill his mother, has threatened to kill Zev – do I even need to keep going?”

“If you want me to start listing all the bad things Landon has done, sure,” Jonathan said. He spoke calmly, unlike Killian.

“You don’t even know the bad things he’s done,” Jack whispered. “Because I don’t. I didn’t even know he existed until yesterday.” He lifted his head, looking between the two. They were glaring at each other as if either of them actually existed. “Why are you even arguing? I mean… why am I arguing about this?”

Killian snorted, crossing his arms. “Isn’t it obvious? You like Landon. He’s sexy, he’s fun, he’s interesting – don’t get me wrong, I was a straight guy with two fucking kids that came from the hottest woman on earth, but if I hadn’t been? I’d have fucked him for nights on end.”

“That’s disgusting,” Jack and Jonathan scoffed.

The man shrugged. “Just saying.”

“I’m not just going to abandon Dracula,” Jack said. He smiled softly, shaking his head. “He’s… He’s all I want. And unless he does something that’s really, really terrible, I… I don’t think there’s any reason for me to give up on him.”

“But do you love him?” Killian asked.

Jack was quiet at this. There wasn’t a way to love someone after having known them for so little time, was there? Certainly not. He wanted more time with him – time that wasn’t spent with Jack running away or fighting him or getting scared by a touch. He wanted time with Dracula where they could be peaceful and… in love, maybe.

“Not yet,” he breathed, “but soon, I think.”

Jonathan smiled softly, and Killian huffed. “You guys are fucking cute,” he growled.

Jack sighed, looking down at his knees. Thoughts of Dracula kept him company.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since they’d left, but it was long enough that when the door opened, he knew it was Landon coming back with news about finding Dracula.

Except he didn’t look excited.

He didn’t even look remotely happy.

Landon entered the room slowly, holding a jacket and a hat.

Numbly, Jack swallowed, drawing his knees up closer to his chest.

“We found Dracula,” Landon whispered. He sat down beside Jack’s bed, gently setting the hat and jacket down on the side of the bed. “And we found Zev.”

Jack looked down at the jacket and the hat. They were undoubtedly Zev’s. He’d seen him wear the hat countless times, and the jacket had his name embroidered on the tag. Plus he could smell the boy’s cologne wafting off of it.

But it didn’t mean anything.

“He’s not… dead,” Jack choked out. He chuckled dryly. “It’s just his jacket and his hat. Maybe he left it.”

“No, Jack,” said Landon. He leaned forward, pure sorrow in his eyes. How could someone have so much emotion about a man he never knew? How could someone be so sympathetic about a situation that hadn’t even really happened?

There was no way Zev was dead. Absolutely no way.

“One of my men had trapped him in one of my houses along the coast. Jack – I’m so sorry. We found Dracula with his dead body and… there was blood everywhere.”

Jack snorted, shaking his head. He went to pick up the jacket. “This isn’t any real proof,” he whispered, but when his hand came into contact with the jacket, it slipped off of it. Blood remained on his hands, covering it like thick acid. He bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes. “He isn’t dead. H-He isn’t dead.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Landon murmured. “I… I have a photo of him. Dead. I know that seeing it might be harmful, so I don’t want to show you, but…” Landon shook his head, actually looking as though he was close to tears as well. “I know how much he meant to you, and I-“

“Show me the fucking picture,” Jack breathed. He swallowed dryly, hoping he could just see the picture and get this done. “Dracula wouldn’t do this – sh-show me the picture. I can explain.”

Landon sighed, looking Jack over with sympathy before he dug through his jacket pocket to pull out his phone. He began scrolling through it, soon giving Jack the phone.

Snatching it from him, Jack blinked a few times to clear the tears from his eyes.

Dracula was hunched in the corner, a bloody hand over his mouth. His eyes were black, like they were when he was hungry for blood, and he was looking at the camera with absolute rage.

And there was Zev. He was laying on his stomach with a pool of blood beginning to swarm around him.

“This isn’t real,” he mouthed. Tears streamed down his face. “This isn’t fucking real, it isn’t…”

Landon sighed again, pulling Jack into a hug.

All Jack could do was sob into his jacket, feeling his world collapsing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha yikes
> 
> plz don't be mad
> 
> ily


	22. Achievemephobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achievemephobia - the fear of success

“You know, I really think we could get out of here if you weren’t focused on me,” said the bleeding boy on the ground.

He stared absently up at the ceiling, blood pooling from his stomach. He took in a shaky breath, spitting the red liquid to the side.

Dracula had taken to sitting on the opposite side of the room, as far away from the other as he could. Now, he was cradling his head in his hands, refusing to even breathe. Of course, not breathing wasn’t difficult for a vampire, considering he didn’t need to breathe, but not _smelling_ on the other hand… that was another issue.

The smell of fresh, lively blood was covering the room like a blanket. It seemed to be specifically finding its way to Dracula, as if someone had turned on a fan on the other side of Zev, making the scent of blood waft his way. And oh, how nice did it smell…

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even touch Zev. Not even to help him.

“Probably,” Dracula choked out.

“It might help us both,” managed Zev, “if I was dead.”

“I really don’t think so,” Dracula mumbled. He rubbed his face, momentarily glancing over to Zev. The boy was trying to sit up. “You should probably stay still. Movement causes… blood flow and all that.”

Zev shook his head. “No, I know. Believe me, I know. I can feel it.” But he was still sitting up, beginning to crawl towards Dracula.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dracula mumbled. Naturally, he would be able to find some more aggression in his tone. But now that he felt so worn down from resisting the urge to drink from Zev, it was becoming difficult to even muster up a sarcastic retort.

“I’m coming over to sit by you.”

“You’ll die,” Dracula warned half-heartedly. “I will drink from you, and you will die.”

“I’m planning on it.”

Dracula sighed, setting his head back against the wall. “Zev, don’t be daft.”

“Sorry, do you have a way out of here?”

“I – no? What, do you?”

Zev nodded, letting out an exhausted sigh. Without warning, he collapsed down onto his stomach, breathing heavily. If he had been pale before, now he was practically translucent. “What’s stronger than one tired, hungry vampire, fixated on a dying, bloody human?” Zev breathed, spitting out blood.

Dracula was quiet, gazing down at the nearly unconscious boy. What was stronger than that?

The realization was sickening.

“I’m not going to let you become like me,” Dracula spat. “It’s a living hell and you will regret it.”

“Believe me,” Zev grinned, “I fucking know, you old hag.”

“Zev,” Dracula growled, lowering his head so that the other boy could see how serious he was. But Zev’s eyes were fluttering shut now, unable to see much of anything. “Zev, wake up. If I drink from you, you’ll die, and you’ll wake up as a fucking vampire. You don’t want that.”

The mere sight of the blood was becoming too much, and Dracula ran a hand down his face in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut. One more glance and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

The boy opened his eyes briefly, glaring at Dracula, though there was no passion behind it. “I’m no good to you or Jack in this state.” He took in a shaky breath, closing his eyes again. “The only way… we’re getting out of here… is if we work together… as… vampires.”

Dracula shook his head, knowing he was running out of time. But this was a bad idea. It was such a bad idea, it would be a _terrible_ idea, and he was hungry, and he was _starving_ , and he couldn’t resist the smell of-

Before he could even think, his body reacted for him. He lunged forward, grabbing Zev and plunging his teeth into his neck.

He screamed. The sound was like fire in Dracula’s ears, but he allowed himself to gorge on the boy’s blood, feeling the warmth rush down his throat. It was the closest thing to heaven he could have experienced – it was like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert. Better, even.

But he knew it was wrong.

Leaning back, he sucked in an unneeded breath, opening his eyes. The world was red. His chin was red, he knew, and the floor was red, and Zev… Zev was dead.

Dread spilled into his guts, and he placed a hand against his mouth, trembling.

He’d killed Zev. He’d killed Zev. He’d killed Zev.

This wasn’t the fucking plan. None of this was supposed to happen ever. They were just supposed to find Jack, and now he’d turned his best friend into a fucking _vampire_ , and-

“Hey, puppy,” sang the voice from the man before. He was standing at the doorway, holding a phone in his hand. Eagerly, he waved it in the air. “You know what I think? I think Jack would love to see you eating his best and last friend in the world, wouldn’t he?”

_Jack?_

Dracula could only feel his face twisting into rage before he was momentarily stunned by a flash.

It was a picture.

It was a picture of him, mouth and hands bloody, with Zev, dead on the ground.

And he was going to show Jack.

“No,” he gasped, shoving himself to his feet. “Come on. Don’t be an idiot. Give me the phone.”

“Or what?” mocked the man, dangling the phone just in front of the invisible field between them. “Or are you gonna come out here? Maybe give me a good licking, too? Hm? Do you get off on that, puppy? Sucking the life out of people and ruining your relationships?”

There was no response to that. There couldn’t be.

“See,” the man said, now lowering his voice to an almost reassuring whisper, “now we won’t need you to gather all the little vampires in New York together. And Dr. Seward knows there’s an alternative to you.”

An alternative to him gathering the vampires together? What in the world-

“Now we’re good to stake you, puppy! How fun is that?”

His cackle sounded like lightning.

“What do you mean?” Dracula breathed. When the man didn’t reply, only cackled, he slammed both of his hands against the force. “What the fuck do you mean?”

The only response he got was a shrug, another cackle, and a middle finger. And then the man walked down the hall, continuing to snicker and giggle.

Dracula let out a breath of air, feeling his heart sink to his stomach.

How could this be the end? How could he have been gullible as to drink from Zev and kill him? How could Zev as a vampire be any more helpful than Zev as a human? How was what he’d done an even remotely good thing?

He was an idiot. An absolute idiot.

Zev was dead now because of him, and Jack would think he was a monster.

No… no, certainly Jack was smarter than that.

Fuck.

Maybe he wasn’t.

Dracula collapsed against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to stop thinking. He just needed to stop thinking… just for a few seconds. He needed to forget about Zev, forget about Jack, about Landon, about the man who’d taken a picture of him… and he just needed to-

“Oh, Dracula,” hummed Zoe’s soft voice.

Dracula opened his eyes. His heart sank at the sight of Zoe Van Helsing, sitting cross-legged in front of him. Her sad eyes glanced Zev over, clasping her hands together in thought and seemingly prayer. Because of course, that’s what his subconscious thought she would do.

No, that’s what his subconscious thought Agatha would do.

“I can’t do this right now,” he whispered.

“You wish to get away from your thoughts, but the silence is inadequate for you. What would you rather happen?”

Now it was Agatha who was sitting across from him. Her beady eyes were peering into his soul, waiting for a response. She looked so level compared to the rest of the room – that was, compared to the bloody body across from her.

“I don’t want to think about him anymore,” Dracula spat. “I want… I want to talk to Jack.”

“Well, he isn’t here. I am.” Agatha got up, going to investigate the invisible force. “This is interesting. A shame we don’t have two vampires here to try and break this.”

Dracula narrowed his eyes.

“And now Zev is a vampire… how sad that you will no longer be tempted for his blood.”

“You can stop, Agatha,” Dracula growled. “That isn’t my only issue.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms. “And what else is your issue, Dracula? Soon you will be able to leave this place with Zev and Jack, once you find him.”

“That’s the problem,” Dracula said. He rolled his eyes, closing them again and setting his head back. “Jack will hate me once he sees the photos. And I’m not there to explain that Zev _asked_ for it. E-Even then, it’s my fault that I did it.”

“Is the cremator responsible for burning a man who wanted his ashes given to his loved ones?”

Dracula was quiet. “You make a good point.”

“Still, there is one question remaining.”

“What does Landon want with Jack?”

Agatha scoffed, coming to sit down across from Dracula again, crossing her legs. Once again, she was staring into his soul, regardless of how much of a hallucination she was. “I think we know what he wants with Jack.”

Of course. Because the second he and Jack were comfortable, someone had to ruin it. There wasn’t a way for the two of them to just enjoy each other –

No. After this, they would be able to. After this, he could really _be_ Jack’s. And Jack would be his.

“Right,” Dracula whispered. “So what… what did he mean that Jack knew an alternative to gather all the vampires in New York? I’m the only one that can do that.”

“Not if Jack is able to harness the vampire component in your saliva that you conveniently put in him when you drank from him.”

Dracula choked on his own spit at that comment, coughing until he felt okay again. But what Agatha had said, even pairing ‘Jack’ and ‘vampire in the same sentence, rung in his head like a bell. He hated the sound of it.

“No,” he mumbled. “No, he wouldn’t be able to do that. What was the point of kicking me out of the picture if I’m the easiest option? I can do it. They don’t have to use Jack.”

He was getting frustrated by a few words. Was this what growth looked like? It didn’t feel like growth. It felt like letting his walls down, becoming entranced by a human, becoming attached.

On the other hand, he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind being so grossly infatuated with Jack that he’d do anything for him. He didn’t mind having a reason to be living after 500 years of having nothing but spite keeping him going. And really, he didn’t mind having a weakness.

“Think about it,” Agatha continued, shrugging. She spoke as if nothing was wrong. “Jack is the only one to have been bitten by you aside from Zev, but Zev is already going to be a vampire under your power. If he figures out how to grasp the vampiric power you put in him…”

“He’ll be able to control all the vampires in New York.”

“Isn’t that upsetting,” Agatha said casually, tapping her fingers against her knees. Her eyes darted around the room with a level of peace that Dracula knew couldn’t be anywhere in his subconscious. “I suppose it’s a little more urgent that we save him now, isn’t it?”

“Or,” Agatha continued, “we could call the vampires here before they can even consider it. And we can initiate an attack on Landon and the entire New York mafia before they can ask anything of Jack.”

That sounded like a bad idea. That had to be the _worst_ idea ever. In fact, if there was even a medal for ‘worst idea in the world,’ Agatha had won it. Further, _Dracula_ had won it, because there was no ‘Agatha’s idea’. It was Dracula’s.

A groan from the other side of the room sounded. Dracula and Agatha both glanced to the side to find Zev, newly awoken, pushing himself up. The man was paler than before, but not quite as ‘translucent’ as Dracula had originally deemed him. Now he was more of just a ghostly white, as though he’d been bleached twice over and then perhaps been dumped in white paint again.

“We have a problem,” Dracula mumbled.

“Oh, right,” Zev growled, “let me just rise from the dead first. Shouldn’t take too long to get accustomed to, I don’t know, being alive again.”

Well, at least death changed the man very little, if at all. It was always interesting to see people rise from the dead the way they did, but Jonathan Harker had to be the most interesting, as he’d been the most human. But Zev wasn’t doing all that bad either. Granted, he hadn’t been consumed from nearly daily before dying.

“We need to get out of here before Jack controls an entire army of vampires for Landon,” Dracula said, pushing himself to his feet. It was at this point that Agatha vanished completely. Perhaps his subconscious had decided he was no longer in need of a talking companion.

“Cool,” said Zev. “I’m sure you’ve got a plan?”

Dracula glanced over to the invisible door. “I’m thinking we can get out of here when they come in to stake us,” offered Dracula.

“When they –“ Zev scoffed, rolling his eyes. “How long was I dead for? A couple days?”

“A couple minutes,” Dracula corrected. “At most.”

The plan was simple: wait for someone to come in and stake them, overpower them and get out.

Or, the plan was simple _granted_ nothing went wrong or even remotely not how they’d considered.

Someone came by about an hour after their plan was formulated carrying a stake. Of course it was the man who’d nicknamed Dracula ‘puppy,’ accompanied by the same red-haired girl whom Zev had punched. Her lip was still split, and she also had a black eye which Dracula was well aware had not been given to her by Zev.

She stood behind the man as he grinned menacingly down at the two of them. “I’ve got the doc here in case either of you two tries anything,” he sneered. “She’s got a gun made by the one and only _Elon Musk_ , and that shit shoots stakes right out of its hole.”

“Which might beg the question, puppy,” he continued, “why on earth do I have my own stake? Well, look no further for your answer, because I’ve got it right here!”

He reached into his back pocket, smiling broadly until he pulled his hand back out to reveal –

A middle finger.

Dracula narrowed his eyes.

“Because fuck you!” sang the man. He then flipped the stake in his hand and stepped through the wall. The girl stayed behind, pulling the gun from her overall pocket. It wasn’t all that big of a gun, but it wasn’t small, either. Certainly big enough to pack a stake or three.

Dracula and Zev stayed still, eyeing the man as he entered.

He wouldn’t be difficult to take down but being able to bring the wall down afterward would be a large issue. Perhaps he could scare the girl enough…

The man lunged without warning, bringing the stake mere inches from Dracula’s chest, but he easily extended an arm and caught him by the throat. It took nothing for him to pull the stake from his hand, throwing it across the room.

Then he squeezed.

And he squeezed.

And he squeezed.

Until there was not a single breath coming from him.

He threw the man in the same manner as he had the stake and met eyes with the girl on the other side.

“Now,” he said with a smile, “this doesn’t have to be difficult. Lower this… thing and I won’t show you this man’s guts, hm? Or you can go back to Mr. Crime Lord and tell him his best man was easily taken down by a vampire, and you didn’t do anything.”

It was a good argument, wasn’t it? It had to be. She looked like she would be easily startled.

But, no. Quite the opposite.

“You probably think you’re scary,” she said to him. “But I’m not scared of vampires.”

Dracula took a few more steps towards the wall, and Zev followed suit behind him, crossing his arms. This wasn’t working out as well as they’d hoped, but when did things ever really go their way?

“Let us out,” he articulated slowly, “or I will make sure I rip your spine out of your body the second I’m free.”

But the girl raised the gun and, without even a moment's hesitation, fired it at Dracula.

And obviously, he’d been expecting to die. He’d been expecting his entire life’s work to disintegrate in front of him as he did so, but rather, nothing happened, and he glanced behind him to where the stake _had_ landed.

There was the man, having managed to pull himself to his feet with the stake now in hand, standing right behind Dracula, ready to kill him.

And she’d put the stake right in between his eyes.

“Promise?” she asked.

Dracula glanced back to her, scoffing.

That word – he _knew_ who used that word.

“You’re working with Jack,” he breathed.

“And Zev isn’t dead. We knew it.”

Dracula took a step out, finding he was no longer pushed back by the invisible force. Zev followed behind him until they were back out in the mansion, previewing long, endless hallways.

“You’d better put a ring on it,” Zev whispered to Dracula, struggling to push down a grin, “because if you don’t, I will.”

All Dracula could do was grin as well before looking down to the girl for a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> serious question here: what do i do after this conflict is resolved
> 
> do i start another fanfiction about something else,,, or do i keep this one going?? but idk how i'd keep this one going after this conflict is done... 
> 
> but it's almost over... and writing is the only thing keeping me entertained during quarantine... 
> 
> :( help
> 
> ily


	23. Glossophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glossophobia - the fear of speaking in public

By all means, Zev had a right to be dead. Except, unfortunately for Landon, Jack knew damn well he wasn’t. For one very simple reason: Dracula was a fucking vampire.

And when a vampire drinks from a human and kills them, it’s unbearably obvious that that person is bound to become a vampire. Sure, unlike in Zoe’s situation where cancer killed her, but she’d also _drank_ Dracula’s blood. There was no way she wasn’t going to turn into a vampire. She’d practically been asking for it.

His initial reaction to seeing Zev _actually_ dead had been, understandably, sobbing his heart out. The idea that his last human friend had been stabbed and then would later become a vampire was upsetting; as it should have been. However, when Landon left, and after simmering in his depression like a chicken might marinate, he decided he should get Dracula and Zev out of wherever they were.

The first step was by letting Candle in on the plan, which she took very fondly to, not strangely at all. She hadn’t confessed to who had given her the black eye, but it wasn’t like it was difficult to put the pieces together.

The second step was to do nothing. If Landon knew Jack knew anything, he’d be killed. He was going to have to play it cool and act like the depressed teenager he’d been a few years ago. It wasn’t hard to bring back the trauma from not then.

His mother was a key factor that he dwelled on.

Since Landon showed him the picture, he’d stayed with Jack through the night. At this point, he’d been in the underground dugout (or whatever) for two days. It felt like much longer. However, Jack had been keeping diligent track of the time and by now it was four o’clock in the afternoon and Jack had yet to get out of bed because ‘Candle insisted it wasn’t a good idea,’ but Jack figured otherwise.

It felt wrong being so close to the man. His arm was wrapped around Jack’s shoulders, holding him close, while Jack pretended to look at the wall, soaking in depression. He spoke of things that Jack didn’t care to listen to until he said, ‘control the vampires?’, at which point Jack deemed it necessary to zone back in.

“What?” he asked.

Landon glanced down at him, rubbing his thumb up and down his shoulder. “Since we can’t ask Dracula, who’s going to control the vampires?” he mumbled.

“Dracula’s the only one who can do it,” Jack said. “We need him.”

At this, the man scoffed and sat up, making Jack sit up, too. “No, Jack. I don’t want you to think you need him – in fact, I don’t want you to think you need _anybody_. You’re an independent man, and I’ll prove to you just how much you don’t need him.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. The rims of his eyes felt like they’d been dipped in light acid from how much he’d been crying, so he struggled to focus on the other man, but he squinted just enough to keep him in focus.

“You were bitten by Dracula, right? That’s what this is?”

Landon reached forward, running a gentle hand down Jack’s neck. Jack couldn’t _really_ feel his touch because of the scar there, but he could feel the pressure, so he nodded.

“Dracula put something in your blood, Jack. Dr. Helsing did a study on her blood after Dracula bit her and gave her the hallucinations – in that time, she had toxins in her blood that would make her-“

“You went to the lab?” Jack whispered.

Landon was quiet, looking at Jack in slight confusion. Then he nodded. “Yeah. O-Or, no, I didn’t go to the lab, I… I have people that work there. Why?”

“They finished the study on Dracula’s blood, then? Or on vampire blood?”

A sigh escaped Landon. He nodded again, drawing his arm away from Jack. “Yes, they did. I don’t remember much, but they managed to find a link between an extended lifetime and something in his blood, but – listen, the point is, you have that same thing in your blood right now.”

It was difficult to wrap his head around the idea that the lab had actually finished its study on Dracula’s blood as well as Zoe’s, whom he didn’t even know had had a study going for her blood. Still, the idea that they’d assessed it _and_ found a link… He was tempted to shove care to the wind and leave then and there.

What he would give to be a fly on the wall at the moment of the discovery. To be able to see what made up Dracula’s blood to make him live longer, to make him need blood to survive…

“Jack?” Landon mumbled. “Jack. Vampire power is literally coursing through your veins right now. And since you lost a lot of blood after being shot, I think it won’t be there for long.”

Jack blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Landon was looking him dead in the eyes with a gentle gaze, but Jack now knew it had a double meaning.

“We don’t even know what to say to them yet,” Jack said. “We don’t know how to convince all of the vampires in New York to follow a strict diet, or… or to resist their violent urges. We don’t even know how to enforce it. We need… time.”

Landon sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if to compose himself. Slowly, he brought his gaze back to Jack. “I would love it if we had time. But you don’t want to talk to Dracula, do you? He hurt you. He _killed_ Zev. And you’re the only other person with the power to control all the vampires. We need you, Jack. Now.”

Silence rung through the air at that last statement. Although Jack knew he was a liar, he also couldn’t help but enjoy how that sounded. ‘We need you, Jack.’ How could anybody need anything more?

“They might want someone honest,” offered Jonathan, hovering in the corner like a shadow. “Like Dracula?”

Jack only breathed out a chuckle.

He was right, though.

“Listen,” Landon continued, sounding more genuine now, as he leaned down and ran a hand down Jack’s face. It felt invasive and clumsy, unlike the few times Dracula had done it. The vampire was gentle and delicate, but this man was doing it as though he’d been forced to, or if he was handling an animal. “I’ve got everything under control.”

Jack nodded, drawing his knees to his chest. “Alright. I’ll get them here.”

He didn’t know how and figured it would take a while for him to learn, but even if he did learn, it was impossible to know what Landon actually wanted with the entire vampiric community. It was even harder to know if Jack had actually managed to change his mind. It was harder _still_ to know what the point of distancing Jack and Dracula was.

And there was no way he could ask any of these questions without raising suspicion.

Landon smiled fondly down to him, a hand still on Jack’s cheek. Then he got up. “I’m really glad you’re here, Jack.”

He was gone again, leaving Jack in the dimly lit room alone.

This was all so complicated that it almost felt like a good idea to curl up and never talk to anyone ever again. But he knew that bad things would happen if he let the world take its own course. He had to intervene and help Dracula – more than that, he had to help vampires.

Even though he had no idea how.

Sometime later that night, there was a faint knock on the door. Most likely Candle, updating him on the status of Dracula or perhaps checking on his wounds, so he sat up and pulled the covers up closer to him, not looking up from the book he’d brought from the shelf.

This one was about vampires, too. Landon had conveniently stacked the entire bookshelf full of books about them.

When the door open and the air changed, not to the usual cold that he’d grown used to, Jack froze. He looked up very slowly, almost unsure if it was a good idea to see what he knew he would see, but when he looked, he could hardly resist smiling.

Dracula stood there, clad in a bloody white button-up. He was standing almost awkwardly beside Candle, being about a foot or two taller than her, but he was happy. There was a smile tinting his lips, too.

“Jack,” the vampire breathed.

Quickly, Candle stepped in beside the vampire and shut the door.

“Where’s Zev?” Jack asked, pushing the covers off of himself.

Dracula wasted no seconds in rushing to him, embracing him in what would be an uncomfortable hug if Jack didn’t feel overjoyed by the simple action. He wrapped his arms tightly around the vampire, burying his face in his neck.

“I put him in my room to avoid suspicion,” Candle said.

The vampire leaned back soon enough, and they stared at each other. This felt surreal. Looking into the man’s eyes was… safe and comfortable. Just two weeks ago, Jack never would have thought that to be possible. But Dracula had proved that Jack was what he wanted.

 _Really_ , he was Dracula’s number one.

“Please don’t let me get kidnapped by anyone but you,” Jack breathed, drawing the vampire into a hug again. “This sucks.”

“I know,” Dracula said. He leaned back, sitting on the edge of the bed. His calm smile filled Jack with a joy that he hadn’t thought possible. “But we can leave now.”

“Actually…” Candle whispered.

Dracula whipped his head around to the girl, scoffing. “What was that?”

Candle’s gaze drifted to Jack for what seemed to be confirmation, but he knew what she was thinking: their mission wasn’t over yet. They couldn’t just leave, not when Landon’s plans involved the entirety of New York one way or another.

“I need to stay here until Landon fleshes out his plan,” Jack mumbled. “Maybe we can actually do some good for this city – or even this state.”

The vampire scoffed once more, turning to Jack. “Oh, come on…” When he found that Jack was being serious, he raised both eyebrows. “Jack. That isn’t your responsibility. Don’t be an idiot.”

Jack rolled his eyes, rubbing his face. It felt gross because it reminded him of how long he’d gone without a shower – who knew what the nurses had done in regard to bathing him – but he had to push those thoughts aside.

“Jack,” Dracula pried. “You’re not actually going to stay here, are you? Landon can’t even do anything with the vampires without you.”

“People are dying,” Candle said. Jack and Dracula looked at her, and she didn’t even flinch. Rather, her gaze met theirs with the same level of intensity. “If we don’t do something, vampires are going to have killed half of New York City by next week. They have no self-control. They don’t even know what they’re doing, but… we can bring things to normal.”

“You’d have to kill them all,” Dracula murmured. “And that isn’t in anyone’s moral code, apparently, so I don’t know how you’d plan on doing that.”

Jack squirmed a bit, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and childish with his plan. He whispered, “I was going to talk to them.”

The vampire glanced back to him with wide, unbelieving eyes. “Talk to them? Talk to the hundreds of vampires that you can gather in an inconspicuous spot somewhere in New York City of all places?”

When Jack didn’t reply, the vampire most likely took it as a yes, and his gaze slowly softened.

“You’re being serious.”

“Of course I’m being serious,” Jack mumbled, looking down at his knees. Anxiously, he fiddled with the pages of his book. “I want to help everyone.”

There was a pause, and then Dracula asked, “But does Landon want to help everyone?”

“I believe he does,” said Candle. She sat down in the chair at Jack’s desk – or, at the chair at the desk in the room, because this was not Jack’s room. He was going to leave soon. “I really think Jack might have convinced him to navigate this situation peacefully.”

Dracula rolled his eyes. “He tried to frame me for the death of Zev.”

“To be fair,” Jack grinned, “you did kill him.”

The vampire instantly tensed, looking over to Jack with a look of either betrayal or pain. Both, probably. “He asked for it,” he mouthed. “I-I didn’t want to-“

“Hey,” Jack interrupted, placing his hand over Dracula’s. It was cold as ice, as it had been since forever, probably, but Jack cradled both of the other’s hands in his own, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t blame you for what happened. All that matters is that everyone’s safe now.”

Dracula was silent for a second before nodding, smiling very faintly. “Thank you.”

“I am just confused about why he tried distancing me from Dracula,” Jack added. He was still holding Dracula’s hands, keeping them close to him. His thumb traced gently back and forth over the man’s skin. “It doesn’t help him.”

“It does,” Candle said. “The simple answer is that he doesn’t trust Dracula. If you had control of all the vampires in New York at one time, he wasn’t sure if you would use them against him or not. So he put you out of the picture.”

The vampire sighed. “Well, I would have killed him if I saw him.”

Jack snorted, shaking his head.

There was silence now, hanging over the room like a thin, not at all uncomfortable blanket. They all knew what happened next: Dracula had to leave Jack in this room, under Landon’s supervision. But if the vampire trusted him enough to accomplish his plan, then nothing bad could come out of this. They would return to each other, safe and unharmed.

“I don’t want you to stay here,” Dracula whispered, looking Jack in the eyes.

The eye contact was a little bit too much. It felt like confrontation, like this was the last time they’d see each other. Plus, he was pretty sure his eyes were beginning to brim with tears, so he glanced down to his knees, continuing to trace his thumb over Dracula’s hand.

The vampire took one of his hands away, lightly touching Jack’s chin and lifting it so that they were looking at each other again.

He didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t want to stay in this room reading dumb books about vampires and entertaining Landon’s lack of boundaries. But he knew the end result would be worth it.

“It’s going to turn out fine,” said the vampire. “And when we get out of this, we can move to the mountains and start a different life. One where you’re not running away or getting kidnapped or… trying to prove to yourself that you’re my first choice. You are. You always will be, Jack Seward.”

The vampire leaned down and placed a delicate kiss against Jack’s lips, lingering only for a second as they soaked in the feeling of finally, _finally_ being together for just a second… and then he leaned back.

Metal touched Jack’s hands. He glanced down to find a necklace with a row of teeth as the charm, and he chuckled softly, wiping a tear from his eye.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Just in case.” Dracula pressed his thumb against one of the fangs and a small blade shot out, about the size of Jack’s pinky finger.

Jack whispered, “Thanks,” and then watched as Dracula pulled himself up from the bed.

He began to approach the door before he turned again, glancing to Jack. “And the vampire power, by the way. It’s all about the intent. You’ll probably know it’s working when your gums tingle, but maybe that’s just me.”

Jack nodded, watching numbly as Candle and Dracula left together, leaving Jack in the same room, with the same clock, with the same bookshelves, and the same locked door.

He sighed.

This was going to be boring and difficult.

Landon came in not much later with a plate of fruit and vegetables, setting it on Jack’s lap with a prideful grin. He then sat down at the desk chair, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back with a sort of confidence that Jack failed to understand.

“So,” began the crime lord, “we’ve got all the details figured out about how to keep the vampires occupied instead of killing people. I’ve talked with some people and we think it would be beneficial to move them to drinking on animals.”

Jack scoffed quietly, picking up a strawberry. “They won’t listen. There’s a reason they don’t drink animals already.”

“Which is why I’m going to be bringing a lot of my men. If they know that the entirety of New York’s mafia is enforcing this belief, I really think we can get them to convert to not harming people anymore.”

Sure, having a lot of the mafia there would be a bad idea in the sense that the vampires could take it as a threat. But… maybe Landon was right. Maybe they would be swayed by the sight of tons of men against them, ready to take action if they hurt people anymore.

This could potentially be a great plan.

“And all we need you to do is call all of them here,” said Landon, setting a hand on Jack’s knee. “We’ll do it tonight, okay?”

“Tonight?” Jack whispered, eyes widening.

Tonight. That meant he had to figure out how to get the vampires there _tonight_. It meant he had to be ready to keep them in one spot for who knew how long while Landon told them the new plan.

And all he knew was that it made his gums tingle when it was working.

“Sure,” he breathed, unsure if there was anything else he could possibly say in reply. “Sure, sounds great.”

“Awesome. I knew I could count on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait!! i was down in the dumps the past two days but we good now
> 
> also, about the direction of the story - thank u guys so much for ur comments, and i've decided to keep the story going after this conflict, if not just for a little bit... it's kinda the only thing keeping me going during COVID-19. 
> 
> thanks for reading ily
> 
> (also completely off topic but my pronouns are they/them,,,,)


	24. Dentophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dentophobia - the fear of the dentist
> 
> tw - suicide ish stuffs

Seeing Jack, if only for a few minutes, had been the highlight of his week – more than that, even. Seeing Jack had been the highlight of his _existence_. Thinking, if even for a second, that he was going to get to bring Jack home to his house, to coddle him and make him know he was the only thing Dracula could ever care about… it had been like he’d grown a heart. Something akin to the Grinch, even, which he remembered from the man he’d drunk from his first days in the new world.

Now, though, leaving him and ducking into Candle’s room (which was more like Harry Potter’s room than he would care to say) he was briefly struck with the realization that Jack had just been underground the entire time. It was a startling fact but Dracula left it alone only because Candle cleared her throat, breaking him from his thoughts.

There was Zev, on her bed, reading a book. Dracula couldn’t see the cover, but it looked long and boring, so he didn’t ask. The boy looked up, though, and his eyes darted between Dracula and Candle. Then he closed the book.

“Where’s Jack?” asked Zev, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion. “Did Landon find you?”

“He decided to stay,” mumbled Dracula. “To help the vampires.”

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“Can’t say I am,” said Dracula, very dryly. He sat down on the floor, as there was nowhere else to sit.

Candle’s room was too small for them all to sleep, so they’d decided that Candle would sleep on the bed, but Zev and Dracula would sleep on the floor. He wasn’t going to complain because at least it meant he was a step closer to Jack.

“I need to go,” Candle said, pulling her hair over her shoulder and beginning to braid it. “Please don’t leave.”

Dracula and Zev both glanced up to her. The thought that was clearly going through both of their heads was that they hadn’t really considered how much she’d done for them.

Zev cleared his throat, setting the book to the side. “Thanks for all this,” he said. “You’ve done a lot of good stuff for us… I hope you get something out of it or whatever.”

Candle smiled, tossing the braid back over her shoulder. “I’m helping people help others. I… I don’t think Landon knew how to do that, but now with Jack… I really think he does.” She picked up her medicine bag. “I should be thanking you.”

When the door shut behind her, Zev glanced over to Dracula before groaning. “This is going to be really dramatic, but I think I need you to kill me.”

The vampire raised an eyebrow to the boy and, after finding no shift in expression, snorted flatly. “Oh, sure. Again?”

“I’m being serious,” said Zev. He fell flat against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His toes just barely touched the ground; it wasn’t because he was short, but because he was so far back on the bed that it consumed him, and it made him look like a child. “I can’t live like this.”

Once again, Dracula chuckled. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean…”

Now Zev sat up, propping his chin on his palm, the elbow of which was propped on his knee. His eyebrows were still drawn together and his lips were twisted into an unpleasant frown that meant he wasn’t happy at all.

“I mean I don’t want to have Jack see me bloody.”

“We can get you cleaned up?” suggested Dracula. “It isn’t that difficu-“

“Dead, Dracula,” said Zev, staring right into Dracula’s soul. “I meant dead. And even after that, once I’ve… fed off of people…”

Dracula clenched his teeth, setting his jaw. He’d done this before – killed people, that was. Killed vampires, even more. Hell, he’d almost killed Lucy if not for Jack. It was an easy process that he’d done over and over again like it was clockwork, but the mere idea of staking Zev seemed impossible.

“It’s funny,” breathed Dracula, looking up at the ceiling. “Just a week ago I would have had at least a little bit of inner turmoil with refusing you. But now… Zev, I can’t kill you.”

“You can, because I can’t have Jack see his only human friend as a vampire, and I can’t go on like you do. You’re a sad vampire without Jack, but with him? You may as well be human. But I don’t have someone that I can prove I love or care for, and I don’t have someone that knows I’ll love them unconditionally. Not like you do.”

At this, Dracula snapped his glare to Zev, eyes narrowed. “You can find one. We’re not actually discussing this.”

“Yes, we are,” insisted the boy. He got up, towering over Dracula with a slightly menacing glare. But without his jacket and hat, he didn’t look like the intimidating gay man that would slice you in half with a single insult. He just looked like a scared boy who had been brought into something he didn’t want.

Dracula stood up, easily passing Zev by a few inches until he was looking down at him. “You’re not going to die because Jack still needs you. Okay?”

“Jack doesn’t want me – and I’m not living my life _just_ for Jack. I’m living my life for me. And _I_ don’t want to be here, living like this. I don’t want to have to feed off of people.”

“Jack is making a plan-“

“To Hell with his plan!” spat Zev, tossing his hands in the air. He lowered them soon after, tucking them into his pockets. “Dracula, I am not going to live like this. I died to get you out of there, but apart from that… I don’t want to live forever. And I don’t want to hurt things to keep going.”

Dracula looked down at his hands, biting his lip. What a terrible position he’d been put in.

“If I kill you now,” he finally whispered, “you’ll have died for nothing. And Jack will never forgive himself for putting you in the position of having to die for him.”

The boy was quiet, and so was Dracula. There was very little to think about now, in this silence, because there were three options, and three options only: kill Zev now, kill Zev later, or kill Zev never. Obviously, Dracula was impartial to the last option, but the man himself was presumably impartial to the first one, so it was now in Dracula’s hands to negotiate him down to the second option.

Though with the mindset he had now, that could be incredibly difficult.

But Zev sighed and said, “Fine. I’ll say goodbye to Jack, see his plan to the end… but you have to promise me, Dracula. You have to promise me you’ll stake me once it’s over.”

The vampire grinned slyly. “And what if you change your mind?”

“I won’t,” said Zev. “I swear I won’t.”

About three hours later, the only indication that things were in place was when Dracula’s gums started to tingle. He knew Jack had no control over the vampire himself, but because he was feeling the tingling in his gums, the least he could tell was that it was working.

Jack was calling the army now.

Zev sat up, too, feeling at his gums. “What… Is this Jack?” he growled. “It feels like the dentist when they stick the needles in.”

“He did it.” Promptly, Dracula got to his feet. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

The other sighed but didn’t hesitate as he began leading Dracula out.

There was a large chance that Jack wasn’t leading them somewhere within the house. This wasn’t exactly the meeting base of the mafia, and neither was it a place that Landon would want a ton of blood-drinkers to know about it, even if he trusted that they could get their point across.

The walk through the building was slow and uneasy, knowing there were cameras in most corners and guards in others. But even if Landon saw the footage later, he’d know that it was for a good reason. Probably. Or not – whatever. The end result for the vampires of New York would be the same.

Dracula rounded a corner slowly, keeping his hands at the ready.

They did come in handy when he came chest-to-face with a person whom he immediately knew the identity of based solely on her height, but it wasn’t so quick of an assessment that he didn’t instinctively grab her by the arm and push her back.

Candle swayed after being bumped into, collapsing onto her back. She stared absently up at the ceiling, face pale. The smell of sweat wafted off of her boldly, mixed with some other smell that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

He knelt beside her. “Candle?” he insisted, checking for a pulse. A slow drum met his fingertips. “Candle, what’s wrong?”

Zev knelt on her other side, shaking her gently. She whined softly, shaky hands fumbling to push him away. “S… Stop.”

“What happened?” Dracula growled, assessing her for wounds. But there was nothing.

But the smell.

The smell was poison.

“Who the fuck poisoned you?” Dracula growled, pressing a hand firmly to her chest to keep her awake. “Candle, who did this to you?”

“L-Landon,” she choked, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. They spilled to the floor, puddling quickly. Her braid was askew, coming undone in various places and cascading now openly across her shoulders. “Fuck – I’m so sorry.”

“What happened, Candle?” hissed Dracula.

“Jack doesn’t know,” she whimpered. “B-But Landon said to tell you there was something in your old room – I don’t know what it is. Please… please be safe.”

“No, don’t die,” said Zev, shaking her more vigorously now. “Fuck, no, Candle – Candle, don’t die.”

But it was in the air. Her breathing had stopped just as suddenly as it had started, and her eyes were rolling back into her head.

She was gone.

She’d been poisoned and there was no undoing it now. Candle was dead.

“That was… fast,” whispered Dracula, glancing her body over again just to be sure. But there was no denying it. Candle was, in fact, dead.

“We need to…” Zev sighed, wiping the tears from his eyes in irritation. “We need to find whatever the fuck he left, and we need to get Jack away from him.”

Dracula scoffed, looking up at him. “Nothing’s more important than Jack. I don’t care about what he left us. Besides, you’re going to be in pain soon if you don’t answer Jack’s calling.”

“I don’t fucking get it,” growled Zev. “We did everything right! We did _everything_ right! We-We went behind Landon’s back, Jack acted normal – there was no way he could’ve known we got out.”

But there wasn’t an answer. There was no way Landon would have known because he never went upstairs – the man with the tattoos had explicitly told them that they were _his_ responsibility, and that he even thought Landon was out of town. That hadn’t been a lie completely, but Landon hadn’t told them the full truth. He was just going underground.

Zev ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace. “What now?”

“Now we need to go to Jack.”

“No, I want to know what he left us.”

“What? Why on earth – no, we need to get-“

“If we’re going to kill this son of a bitch, we need to know everything he’s done. Besides, he has no reason to kill Jack. It’s going to take a while for him to get all the vampires together, right?”

He had a good point, unfortunately. It would be nice to be fully educated on whatever Landon had left them, and then be able to absolutely obliterate him when they got there.

Their old room was located down a flight of steps. The building was a complete maze, but at least they knew where to go from Candle’s room, to their old captivity room, to the front door.

There was no longer a force field in front of the door, and neither was there a door at all. Rather, the room was black, with no shining lights.

Slowly, unsurely, Dracula and Zev approached the doorstep, keeping footing silent.

There hung two bodies, swaying in a breeze that didn’t exist.

“Mr. Princeton,” Zev mouthed.

And the man who’d called Dracula puppy.

They were close together, their arms bound together with a thin wire as if to replicate the sight of holding hands.

Blood was smeared along the wall behind them and it took Dracula only a few seconds to decipher the word it created.

‘Promise?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plz enjoy and thank u for reading ily
> 
> poor candle :( 
> 
> also plz comment smthn quarantine is boring and i will answer this time i promise ;)
> 
> ily ily ily ily


	25. Foniasophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foniasophobia - the fear of murderers or being murdered

“What a beautiful sunset.”

Jack sucked in a slow breath, glancing out the car window. The sun had barely set at this point, but the sky was a pretty mix of yellow and blue. It was nice enough to mesmerize Jack until he was brought back to the realization of what he was about to do.

“Jack,” Landon said, and Jack could feel his eyes on him, “can I ask why you’re so… obsessed with not killing the vampires? I figure most people in your position… well, I figure their life goal would be to wipe out as many vampires as possible. You were raised to be a vampire hunter, weren’t you?”

Numbly, Jack nodded. “My parents had instilled the thought in me that my only reason to be alive was to kill vampires – Dracula, specifically. After I killed them and they came back as vampires, I… it was so obvious that vampires are just people, too.” He ran a hand through his hair then wrapped his arms around himself, ignoring the slight throbbing in his arm and waist. “What gives me the right to kill them?”

The crime lord shifted in the seat beside him, unbuckling and facing Jack. “Because _they_ kill things. They don’t even think about killing humans, and they do it.”

Jack smiled wryly. “That’s why we’re going to talk to them.”

He felt like someone had sapped everything out of him. Sure, he was recovering quickly from the bullet wounds, but they had still taken a toll on him. So had trying to become a pro at controlling every vampire in New York. It was beyond him that collective mind control – or any mind control at all - was even possible, but when he felt his gums tingle, he figured there was no doubting it.

“Dracula hadn’t done anything for you to change your mind, had he?” asked Landon.

The question was out of nowhere, and Jack glanced over to Landon with a raised eyebrow. “Sorry?”

An uncomfortable chuckle escaped Landon. He turned his attention to out the window, crossing one leg over the other. “I mean… I’m not an idiot, and I’m Landon Princeton. I know about the condition Dr. Helsing put in you, and I know you were forced to live with Dracula. You ran away two or three times before the house fire, and… as far as I know, nothing happened between going to Zev’s house and Dracula finding you. So what made you change your mind about him?”

Jack glanced down at his hands. He still had the scar from where he’d cut his palm for Zoe, and it brought on the memory of being bound to the bedpost.

What had changed his mind?

“I was brought up believing he was a villain. But… he’s been lonely for 500 years, and he’s had no reason be compassionate to other people.” Jack smiled, rubbing the scarred hand through his hair again. “Zoe said we could improve each other. I… I really think we did. I realized that at Markus’ house.”

Silence echoed through the car before Landon nodded, sitting back. “Is Dracula a good person?”

The man was just cranking out difficult questions to answer, wasn’t he? Jack had no idea how to answer that question.

Obviously, the things Dracula had done in the past weren’t the best – using people as blood bags, for instance, or kidnapping Jack… But now it seemed like he’d bettered himself, as Zoe had predicted. Dracula had bathed him to help with his OCD and picked the blood from under his fingernails. He’d even taken a bullet for him and convinced him that Jack was his number one. That was important.

“I really think so,” admitted Jack. “But we both still have a lot of growing to do.”

A beat, and then Landon whispered, “Do you think I’m a good person, Jack?”

Before Jack could answer, the car came to a stop. Landon had decided a good place to gather the vampires would be at a cliff in the woods. It wasn’t a long cliff – more of just a slight incline that would make it easier to talk to a hoard of vampires.

It wasn’t raining, which was good, because usually when it was raining in movies, there were bad things in the future. But the sky was darkening to a beautiful purple and orange sunset, and Jack thought this was going to be incredibly productive.

Landon got out of the car, and the driver helped Jack out. It was a little difficult to stand on his own, but he managed to walk to the incline and glance down. Behind them were dozens of other cars that people began getting out of, too.

It was certainly a big, vast, grassy field. There was no one he could see within his line of vision and the area they were in was surrounded by trees.

“Are you ready, Jack?” asked Landon. He looked particularly attractive at this hour, with his brown hair dangling at his ears and his eyes shining in the sun. It was a good look for him, but then again, so was golden hour for everyone.

He only knew that term because of Zev.

“I think so,” said Jack.

He’d practiced in the room a few times. His gums had tingled and he’d decided that was how it was supposed to feel, but now, standing at the top of a hill, knowing that soon there were going to be hundreds of vampires below him… it was terrifying.

Thankfully, though, Landon would be the one talking.

Jack closed his eyes, allowing his mind to go blank. That, he found, was the first step. Thinking about nothingness until he was sure his mind a blank canvas. He liked to akin this process to a petri dish, with his mind being the focal bacteria and his thoughts being sheep’s blood to make it grow. The petri dish was the entirety of New York.

It wasn’t difficult when he thought of it that way.

When the bacteria reached out and paused, it was a vampire’s mind that he’d taken control of. He could feel the control because it felt like a needle to his gums like Dracula had said. It didn’t hurt until there came to be dozens of needles, and then a hundred.

By the time vampires began to gather at the foot of the hill, he was practically in tears. He clasped a shaking hand to his mouth. When he drew it back, he found blood.

But he wasn’t done yet. This was too important.

“Keep it up, Jack. Tell me when you think you have everyone.”

Landon’s voice was distant, but Jack heard it and pressed on, spitting out blood when he could.

Soon there were no more needles, but the pain lingered, and Jack collapsed to his knees, choking out blood. It felt cold, unlike blood normally did. It drew questions, but Jack didn’t have time to ponder it. Rather, he looked down at the hill that he’d fell at.

Below him was a black mass of vampires. They stood attentively, quiet eyes and curious eyebrows. They didn’t know what was happening.

Some of them had blood on their mouths. Even as Jack choked on blood that poured from his gums, he found that some of the vampires were salivating, eyes turning black.

Things would change, though. It would work out.

“Good evening!” Landon said. The sun was shining in his eyes, making him squint, but he didn’t let it deter him. “You guys are all of the vampires located in New York. Not just New York City, but the entire state. It’s great to meet you all.”

There was silence from the vampires. They weren’t quiet because Jack was forcing them to stay silent, but because they chose to be. They were people. Vampires had the capability of talking, like his parents and Jonathan Harker and Dracula and even Lucy, but they were being patient.

“My name is Landon Princeton. I run New York’s mafia and, further, I run New York.” He left a beat for the words to sink in before continuing. “I’m sure a lot of you have heard of me. Or maybe you haven’t. The point is, I don’t appreciate the slaughter of _my_ civilians.”

He was quiet again, crossing his arms. A quiet sigh brushed past his lips before he whispered, “How silly.”

Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past Jack’s cheek, landing with a soft thud into one of the vampire’s heads. They screamed in pain, vanishing promptly into dust.

Jack swallowed dryly. “What?” he coughed, blood spilling onto the puddle he’d already spit out.

Landon turned, looking down at Jack with the least emotion he’d ever seen in a person. And then he smiled. “Jack. This is silly, isn’t it? Look at them.” He crouched in front of Jack, grabbing his chin and jerking his face to view the vampires.

What the fuck was happening?

“They’re _animals_. They don’t hear me. They don’t know what I’m saying.”

Tears slipped from Jack’s eyes. This wasn’t the plan.

“Do you?” Landon called, glaring at the vampires before him.

But they were silent, still. Silent because they didn’t know what to say, silent because – because Jack had control over them.

“They’re nothing, Jack. Practically nonexistent, but… you’re different. You cared about the little creatures.” Landon ran a hand down Jack’s face, rough and nonchalant; as if Jack was the animal. “I admire that about you. And that’s why I don’t want to kill you. But… the vampires? They’re killing humans.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but blood only spilled from his lips. He coughed, trying to form words, but they were only blocked by the blood.

 _No, no, no, no_ …

More arrows were flung from crossbows, landing with hollow thuds into the vampires in the front line. They looked terrified, but they were stuck still because of Jack, unmoving.

He hadn’t gotten this far. How did he release his hold on them? Why hadn’t he been told how to do that? Why hadn’t he asked?

“Stop!” Jack gurgled, gagging on more blood.

The arrows didn’t stop.

“Oh, it’s okay,” hummed Landon, pulling Jack to him. “It’ll be over soon.”

“No!” boomed Jonathan.

His hand yanked Jack back by his collar, sending him tumbling onto the ground. It burned his arm when he braced himself, but at least he was out of Landon’s grip.

“What the fuck was that?” Landon growled.

Jonathan stood over Jack like a shadow, glaring down at him. He looked pathetic – he knew that at this time, he looked like the man that Dracula had left to die. He was bald, and he had a fly that also didn’t exist – not _really_ – swarming his eye. But the way he glared down at Jack made him seem so, so real.

“How do you stop a petri dish from continuing to grow?” Jonathan seethed. “How do you release these vampires from your hold, Jack Seward?”

There wasn’t an answer. The real, actual solution to getting bacteria out of a petri dish was by scraping it out, but he couldn’t just scrape the vampires out of his mind.

But there was one other solution.

“Fire,” Jack breathed.

“What fir-“

Landon was cut off by a flame bursting to life between him and Jack, sending him back.

There, in the middle of the flame, was Jonathan Harker. He was _real_. He was standing there, in front of Jack, in the fire, _burning_.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan cried, trying to stomp out the fire.

But it was the house fire. No one could stomp out the house fire.

“Y-You’re the petri dish,” Jack breathed. He stumbled to his feet, holding his side. The intensity of the situation had put his pulse on rapid-fire, sending more blood to his wound, thus making him bleed more. At this point, he was going to die from blood loss. “You’re my connection to Dracula – _you’re_ the reason I have his abilities.”

Jack took in a shaky breath. “I burn you,” he whispered, “and I sever my hold on the vampires.”

And it would have worked. It would have all been over, but a body knocked Jack out of his thought.

The fire disappeared into thin air as well as Jonathan, leaving burned grass and smoke. But now a firm arm was slipped around Jack’s throat, holding him firmly to the body. It smelled like Landon – it smelled like sweat and fucking betrayal.

“Let me burn him!” Jack shouted, struggling violently. But Landon was far stronger than Jack because he didn’t have two bullet wounds and he hadn’t bled a pint from his mouth. “Let me fucking burn him, please! You can’t do this!”

“Burn him and he dies,” whispered Landon.

The quietness of his voice was calming, and Jack was brought to the moment.

Across the clearing was Dracula, held at gunpoint by two individuals. Beside him was Zev, also held at gunpoint. Neither looked particularly scared, but they were at Landon’s mercy.

“Keep hold of the vampires or we will put a stake through both of them,” warned Landon. He hissed the words into Jack’s ear like a curse.

“Burn him,” yelled Dracula. “Don’t worry about us.”

“They can’t win this fight,” bargained Landon. He chuckled, shaking his head. “They may be fast, but I have tons of men here, all focused on us. They make a move, they’re dead. You make a move… They’re dead. Just keep your hold on the vampires and we can get this over with, clean and easy.”

“I don’t want this,” breathed Jack, struggling to speak over the blood.

Landon shook his head more, wrapping his other hand around Jack’s torso. He held him close, and if it were under other circumstances, the close contact would have been relieving. But now it was terrifying and made Jack feel claustrophobic.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said. “I swear, Jack… you’ll see how well this will work out for _all_ of New York.”

“Let go of him!” yelled a voice.

Jack and Landon both turned to find Zev. He’d taken a step forward. Now there were three guns aimed at him. Inside, Jack could see stakes. It was new technology… Tears brimmed in his eyes at the idea that they’d created weapons solely to kill vampires.

“Touch a hair on his head and I _swear_ I’ll rip you apart,” Zev continued. “I won’t hesitate. Get your filthy hands off of him _now_.”

At this, Landon only laughed. He threw his head back, getting a good kick out of it as nothing but silence otherwise rang through the clearing. Then he sighed, content, and looked back at Zev. “You think you’re something else since you’re a vampire now? You think maybe you’ve got the upper hand here because I hadn’t anticipated you’d turn?” He scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. I’m not an idiot, Zev! I knew you’d turn.”

“Maybe you didn’t know,” Zev seethed under his breath, just loud enough for the other side of the clearing, “that I know what you are. You can act like you care about people, Landon, but we know what you _really_ are: you’re just a fucking murderer. This whole thing probably just gets you off. You don’t care about New York; you just care about getting your hands a little bloody.”

Jack swallowed dryly, blood spilling down his throat. Cold, metallic blood. 

“You’re a good guy, Landon?” Zev continued, walking without fear. “You think you’re doing New York good? How about your dad? Did you do him good?”

His dad?

“And how about Candle?”

At this, Jack felt his heart plummet. It fell out of his body like a dead weight, becoming nothing apart of him.

Candle was dead?

“You poisoned her. You hung your dad. I bet you go to your room at night and you get out your tiny fucking dick and you jack off until you can't breathe, right? Remembering all the people you've killed? Who the fuck hangs their dad? Who the fuck are you _helping_?”

There was silence again, only the sound of Landon’s heavy breathing whispering in Jack’s ear. Then he scoffed quietly, the moment of surprise passing and leaving Landon angry. He could feel it in his chest.

“I’m helping cleanse this world of idiots,” he said.

And then one of the men fired.

And an arrow lodged itself into the back of Zev’s head.

It was a brief moment. A brief, silent, beautiful moment in which Zev’s nearly dead eyes, only slowly glazing over, met Jack’s. He was at peace now more than Jack had ever seen. Even more so as his eyes fluttered shut…

… and he turned to dust.

“Zev,” Jack breathed.

He collapsed to his knees. Landon let him go, allowing him to stare at the ashes of his dead friend. That was all that was left.

And then three things happened at once, none of which Jack had proper control over.

Landon reached a hand down to grab Jack’s collar, Dracula yelled a warning and stepped forward, and the world went black.

At first, there was no such thing as getting focused after the transition from sunset to absolute darkness. But as Jack’s eyes adjusted, and as he could feel the ground beneath him, he discovered they were no longer in the clearing. Rather, he was trapped in the Box with Landon. He’d created a physical hallucination.

“Where are we?” Landon asked. His voice echoed.

To the left of Jack was the circle that the baby sometimes went through. It was their only source of light as well as the only glimpse of the outside they had. Thankfully, it was positioned to face Dracula, where Jack could see him being held down by the others outside. But he wasn’t being shot, and he didn’t look hurt.

“We’re in my ancestor’s trauma,” said Jack, as if he owed Landon an explanation. The one he gave sounded fake. How did he ever come to say a sentence like that?

“This is what you hallucinate?” Landon asked, drawing himself to his feet.

Jack did the same, pushing himself against the Box wall and getting to his feet from there.

“Sometimes,” whispered Jack.

They were quiet now. Jack’s mouth was still bleeding and he didn’t feel as though he could safely stop the vampires from being under his control, not with Dracula on the ground. The men would notice the vampires fleeing and shoot him.

So he had to kill Landon here now.

The other realized it about the same time Jack did, and he scoffed quietly. “There’s one way we both get out of here, Jack,” said Landon. “Just put the Box down and we can go out and – and we can go back to your room. You can read me books about vampires, we can eat fruit together… This can work out for both of us.”

The man then scoffed once more, but it was in mock humor. “I mean, what the fuck are you gonna do to me, Jack? You’ve got two hardly healed bullet wounds and your mouth is bleeding like a faucet. I’m a trained crime lord. I was raised to _kill_ people.”

“Like you killed Candle?” interrupted Jack. “A-And your own dad?”

Although Jack couldn’t see him, he was sure Landon rolled his eyes. “Candle was an idiot. As I said, I’m cleansing the world of them! And sure, you may have done some dumb things, like dating a vampire and going behind my back, but… I think you’re worthy of redemption, Jack. And I’m willing to give it to you.”

Jack couldn’t fathom words to explain the idiocy of Landon. And he didn’t want to, either.

Footsteps got closer to him, indicating that Landon was getting closer.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Jack went to rush forward, but he was easily caught by the collar of his shirt. Landon shoved him back against the Box wall, a hand wrapped mercilessly around his throat.

“Give up!” Landon growled. The light from the glass shined into Landon’s eyes, illuminating tears. “I swear, I don’t want to kill you!”

Jack choked, struggling to find a way to breathe between the blood and the hand around his throat.

Maybe it was impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes


	26. Ombrophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ombrophobia - the fear of rain

At this point, it was impossible to count the number of people holding him down. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t, because his eyes were pinned on the box that Jack had _created_ out of thin air. And now he was locked in it with Landon with no way of surviving. Sure, he had the creation of the box in his favor, but he was wounded, and his mouth was pouring blood.

The scent still lingered in Dracula’s nose like cotton. It smelled sickly sweet, like any other type of O negative out there, but it smelled _better_. Probably because Dracula could now associate something equally sickly sweet with it.

“I swear,” seethed one of the men above him, “if your little bitch even _touches_ Landon, you’ll get a stake in every pore of your body.”

The comment was so over the top that Dracula couldn’t even think of a reply. Rather, he groaned quietly as he was hoisted to his knees. Guns hovered over his head.

The vampires were still staring at them. They were silent, mindless bodies because Jack still had control over them. There was nothing they could do to get free. Dracula couldn’t do anything to help them, either – not with Jack’s control on them. If he tried controlling them now, it would be chaos in their head and would probably result in brain damage.

Worse, of course, than the trauma of being bitten, drained of blood, dying, and then coming back with a hunger for things they hadn’t even considered consuming before.

There was silence as everyone watched the box in the middle of the field. Nothing could be heard from it, which was surprising considering it was mostly a figment of Jack’s imagination, but maybe it was a good thing. If Dracula heard Jack getting hurt in there…

But he couldn’t move without getting staked. If he even so much as flinched, any of these guys could show how trigger happy they were and shoot him.

So they had to wait.

They were in there for twenty minutes before the box slowly started to disappear.

The first thing Dracula could really get his eyes on was Jack, covered in blood, most of it around his mouth. He was trembling – Dracula could tell that from however far away he was. But Landon wasn’t anywhere in sight.

At least, he wasn’t until the box was fully gone, and Dracula could see that Jack had something in his hand, and Landon’s body was on the ground.

How the fuck had he won?

“What does he have?” one of the men whispered. A silent gasp followed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Dracula squinted, leaning forward just a little to get a better look. It was a circular thing in Jack’s hand, roughly in the shape of a-

Oh, God.

It was Landon’s head.

Jack lifted the decapitated head, blood flying off it. Even though the vampires could no doubt smell it, they remained still, watching him.

He then threw it on the ground, and it rolled until it was a foot away from Dracula’s knees. There were Landon’s lifeless eyes, looking terrified, gazing up into a black abyss that his dead eyes couldn’t see. The cutting job was messy and not clean like it was in the movies – as he knew from someone’s blood – but it really was Landon’s head, cut off.

Dracula could only snicker, which earned him a harsh jab by a gun.

“So what does this mean?” asked someone behind him. “You… you kill _the_ crime lord of New York, and what do you expect to happen?”

Jack swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Then he shrugged. “No fucking clue,” he managed through the blood coming from his gums.

“You want to become crime lord of New York, kid?” asked someone else.

Jack shook his head.

“I do!” chimed Dracula. This earned him yet another jab, to which Jack stepped forward.

The men holding him actually cowered, taking steps back from him until Dracula was free from their hold. He glanced behind himself to find they had pocketed their guns and were allowing him to leave.

He did so quickly, getting to his feet and walking to Jack, who jogged towards him and embraced him. It felt like heaven – if there was such a thing. Dracula had assumed that kissing him before was the closest thing to heaven that he would ever get, but being able to hug the man that had almost died in protection of his species… well, that was even closer.

“I’m sorry I trusted him,” mumbled Dracula into Jack’s hair. It still smelled like bleach somehow, but Dracula wasn’t even sure when the last time he showered had been. “I should have been more cautious.”

“I was the idiot for trusting him,” grinned Jack, spitting out blood as he stepped back. “He ate grapes in three bites – I should have known better.”

Dracula could only scoff at the fact that Jack was still able to hold humor after killing someone. “He what?” whispered the vampire.

“Hey!” called the men behind them. Dracula turned to find all of them looking at the two of them for answers. “What the hell do we do now?”

“Just go,” Jack said, shrugging. “Don’t-“ he choked on blood, spitting more out. “Don’t do this shit again.”

Silence as the men debated replying with rage or not. But then gradually, they began to disperse. They went back to their cars, filing in one by one, and when the engines started, Dracula knew they had won. Or, Jack had won. Dracula had just let Zev die and-

“Zev,” Dracula breathed.

Jack looked up at him quietly. His face was bloody, his eyes bloodshot. He had a slowly forming bruise around his neck, implying perhaps he’d been choked by Landon. If the man could come back to life, Dracula would kill him over and over again, just to show him not to mess with Jack. Or anyone, for that matter.

Slowly, Jack’s gaze turned to the pile of ashes on the ground. They were somehow still full of life, in a line that indicated Zev had died in action. He’d wanted to show that he could be of help, that he wasn’t just someone that stood by as bad things happened.

He’d been the best thing to happen to Jack, really.

“He… He wanted to die,” admitted Dracula. He glanced down to Jack, unsure of how to word it without it sounding like a complete lie. “He asked me before we left to kill him after this all went down. He said… He said he couldn’t live like me.”

Jack let out a hoarse chuckle which actually sounded like more of a sob. When Dracula glanced down, he found Jack rubbing tears from his eyes. The water ended up smearing the blood on his face as he wiped them.

“Sounds like him,” Jack choked out.

“Doesn’t it.”

Gradually, they both remembered the hoard of vampires still bending at the knee for Jack – not literally, but they were waiting and ready. It was impossible to count how many but Dracula could guess there were at least 500 of them, which was shocking. He’d come to New York not too long ago, released Jack’s mom even sooner than that. And in that time, they’d managed to turn hundreds of other people.

“This is crazy,” Jack whispered.

“Do you know what to do?”

Jack shrugged before pointing to his mouth, indicating it was fairly difficult to talk with so much blood in his gums.

Dracula could assume it hurt worse than he was letting on, or perhaps the pain had numbed. He had no idea – he’d only done it once, back when he’d been an idiot and let the vampires in his castle loose just to see what they’d do. After the town nearest to him started noticing, he was forced to call them back, but his hold on them hadn’t been for long. Not long enough for him to spit up so much blood, at least.

All in all, this meant it was his job to tell the vampires to stop feeding on humans, which was difficult, considering he hadn’t been practicing what he preached. In fact, he’d never even thought about drinking animal blood instead of human blood. He’d never thought about being more humane about his life choices.

And now he had to tell other vampires to do just that.

But this was Jack’s dream. At this point in their relationship, it would be suicide to _not_ ask the vampires to feed off animals. Besides… it would benefit everyone, probably.

Thinking about it now, there were many factors that fed into Dracula being so inhumane towards his guests, and one of them was no doubt the fact that he saw them as blood bags instead of people.

But there was no way _not_ to see Jack as a person. And what made him any different than the other people he’d fed off? Sure, Jack was… unnaturally charming and attractive, more so than even Jonathan Harker. He was better than any human he’d ever met.

At the same time, he was _just like_ any human he’d ever met.

“It’s easy to see humans as things,” Dracula said before he’d actually considered saying it. He cleared his throat, glancing over to Jack, who gave him a bloody thumbs up while the other hand covered his bleeding mouth. “It’s easy to see them as bags of blood that are free for the taking because we’re stronger, faster… better, even, aren’t we?”

He stepped forward, towards the edge of the hill so that he could easily see all the vampires he was talking to. “Yes, we’re so much better than humans even though most of you were one not even a day ago. And yet something gives you the right to feed off of them. To scare them shitless, drink their life source, kill them… and then the cycle just starts again and again with grumpy vampires raising from the dead and eating people. It isn’t particularly fun, is it?”

Though none of them said anything, Dracula could feel the consensus was no; no, it _was_ fun, because the thrill of being better than something and taking advantage of that was like euphoria. He’d felt it too many times to not understand.

“It’s more fun to kill humans, I think, than animals, because they can say things and scream and ask us to stop. Isn’t it?”

The vampires grinned and nodded collectively, some looking a little nervous to agree but Dracula shrugged.

“I had fun. I _have_ fun. Killing people is _fun_. I bet even now, smelling Jack’s blood is exciting. It’s hard to not kill him, isn’t it?”

A shocked scoff from Jack made him turn to look at the boy, who was glaring at him now. But Dracula had a plan.

“But how did you feel when those men came shooting stakes at you, killing vampires who stood not even a foot away from you? How did that feel? Were you scared? I bet if we had functioning bodies some of you would have pissed your pants. But we don’t. So that didn’t happen.”

Jack must have been too tired to continue looking shocked, so he sat down instead, plopping down in the grass with a soft thump.

“They viewed us as things that didn’t deserve to ask for its life or didn’t deserve to _have_ a life. They viewed us as animals. Which is… sad, but don’t we deserve it? We feed off humans like animals. We treat humans like _shit_ because we think we’re better than them. And we are, sure. Yeah, we’re way better than them.”

“You fucking idiot,” Jack said through a mouthful of blood.

“ _But_ ,” Dracula continued, casting him a quick scornful look, “they treated us like they think they should, based on how we act and behave. They treated us like animals because that’s how we bloody well act. We kill humans without a second thought – why shouldn’t they stake us? They were fucking terrified that we’d kill all of New York by next Tuesday.”

In response, some of the vampires actually put themselves in contemplation, considering what Dracula was saying.

Good.

“So here’s what I’m thinking. We don’t want to be like those men, killing things that are below us just because we can. We need to show people that we _are_ still humans because we damn well are, aren’t we?”

The vampires grunted and nodded in response, swaying a little in agreement.

“So why don’t we fucking show them how human we are?” Dracula asked, spreading his arms. He was riling them up – he could tell by the shouts from here and there, by the fists in the air. “Feed on _animals_ , not people. Because only bitches like them hurt things that don’t deserve it! Right?”

At this, the vampires cheered like they were at some sort of pep rally, throwing their hands in the air and yelling things that were appropriate to the cause.

It was great, but it also meant Jack’s hold on them was dying.

Which meant Jack was dying.

He turned to the smaller boy, who was now curled up on the ground. His skin was so pale that it almost looked like paint against the darkening ground. It was a significant thing that he was doing this and not being instantly swarmed by the vampires he was losing control over. Maybe he’d done something.

He crouched beside Jack, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You need to burn Jonathan.”

“A-Are you done?” he asked, now vomiting up blood. He’d probably swallowed a lot.

“Yeah… I think I started a riot for a good cause.”

Jack chuckled quietly, sitting up and looking at the rioting vampires. Then he slowly nodded, closing his eyes and putting himself into deep thought.

Soon enough, there was Jonathan Harker. Actually the man, standing in front of them, as dead as when Dracula had left him.

Dracula swallowed numbly, looking him over. Jonathan gazed at him too. Neither of them could really say anything until Jonathan said, “Well, of all the ways I thought I’d see you again, this wasn’t it.”

“I…” But Dracula couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“I probably look pretty bad, hm?” asked Jonathan, looking down at himself. His loose pants were burned from the time Jack had previously tried to incinerate him. “How unfortunate… This isn’t a very good look for me.”

“Death isn’t much of a good look for anyone,” Dracula managed.

“I think for you it is.”

There wasn’t much more to say to that. It was a bit interesting, really, getting a compliment from the man he’d tried to kill a few hundred years ago. But it wasn’t awful. Just… different. He wasn’t too used to it.

Dracula glanced to Jack, who wiped tears from his eyes. “I can’t do it,” the boy whispered.

Jonathan sat down with a sigh. “Jack,” he said. “I’ve been apart of you for so many years now… and I’ve enjoyed them all. Watching you grow and learn and turn into the man you are today has been fascinating and… the best thing I ever could have asked for in death. But I’m killing you now. You need to let me go.”

Dracula sat down beside Jack, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. The boy held a hand to his mouth as he cried quietly, leaning into Dracula.

“The only reason I was around was because you had no one,” continued Jonathan. “Lucy was never yours, Zev was never infinite, and neither was Zoe. You knew that from the test blood samples you’d taken from years past… but now you have someone that will be with you forever.”

“I wanted you to be with me forever,” choked Jack. He shook his head. “I can’t let you go.”

“Jack,” Jonathan said, much more firmly. “You can’t be entirely selfish.”

The point Jonathan made was… interesting. Dracula scoffed at the sound of it because he knew what the man was implying.

Jack would die if he didn’t burn Jonathan, and then _Dracula_ would be the one without anyone.

“Always taking in the bigger picture,” Dracula grinned, shaking his head.

And then he felt a hand touch his.

It was Jack’s shaking, bloody one. His index finger slowly opened Dracula’s palm and slid in until their fingers were intertwined.

Jack nodded.

And then Jonathan Harker burst into flames.

It was quite a sight to behold, considering it was _really_ all in Jack’s mind, though everyone could see it. But as Jonathan didn’t writhe or scream or even cry in the flames, Dracula knew it was real. Jonathan would die for other people over and over again until there was nothing left to die for. That much was true.

And once Jack stopped crying, they grew to enjoy the flame.

Behind it, the vampires scurried away, disappearing into the woods and the hill further down. Until it was only Dracula, Jack, and the fire.

And Zev’s ashes.

“We should throw his ashes somewhere,” said Jack, drawing his knees up to his chest.

His mouth had stopped bleeding. He was still covered in blood but at least now it was drying rather than continuing to poor like a broken sink.

“I agr…”

Rain put out the fire.

Rain smeared Zev’s ashes into the ground.

Rain washed the blood off of Jack.

And rain reminded Dracula that he was starting anew with Doctor Jack Seward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh gosh!!! that was kinda.... yikes
> 
> but damn, it felt good to finish it
> 
> bet ur ass there's going to be an epilogue (with smut!!! i think!!!), and then i'm going to start another story - whether that's a book 2 or another fandom, u decide!! plz comment what u think i should start next bcuz honestly i have no fucking idea, but i need need NEED to write bcuz this virus has me in my house and i can't do shit but water plants and sleep which is NOT good for my mental state
> 
> in other news, thank u ALL for reading this and commenting! it really honestly VERY MUCH means the world to me and i cannot thank ya'll enough... definitely didn't think this story would get any attention at all
> 
> god i love u guys FUCK have a GREAT day if i could give u the world i would


	27. Fearless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fearless - to have no fear

“It’s been three weeks, Jack,” whispered the nurse, smiling gently down to him. “I think you’re ready to go home.”

Jack glanced up from his phone. His neck hurt from how frequently he’d been looking down to it so maybe it was a good thing to be distracted for once. Letting out a slow sigh, Jack looked around the hospital room.

It had been the same lonely environment for three weeks. Granted, there was no way Jack was ever going to complain about some downtime. Not when the previous three weeks had been absolute chaos, between getting kidnapped a few times over and murdering the crime lord of New York, Jack had a lot of resting to make up for.

Three weeks had been enough.

The only thing keeping him company in this time had been Zev’s parents, who dropped by now and again to tell them how they were adapting to life without their son, and Dracula, who texted him constantly.

The vampire had made more steps than Jack had thought possible towards becoming less dangerous to humans. For the first week, all he’d done was stay indoors with some meat he got from the store. He’d told Jack that he didn’t trust himself enough to even go outside, not without Jack there to stop him if he needed to.

The second week, Dracula managed to go back out to the store and get more meat. In that time, he stopped by the hospital. The smell was too much for him, though, and he only managed to smile a shaky grin at Jack before leaving just as quickly as he’d arrived.

Now they were in the third week. Dracula still didn’t trust himself enough to visit Jack in the hospital, but he had managed to take a full walk around the block without being tempted.

Progress was all Jack could ask for.

And progress was what Jack had made the most of. After losing 35% of his blood, the nurses weren’t sure he could come back from it. Especially not since he still had two open bullet wounds. It had probably been even harder for them since his gums didn’t have a particular source of bleeding.

He had passed out the second the IV was stuck in his skin.

Now, though, his wounds had completely closed up, only leaving the slightest scars, and he was able to get up without feeling dizzy.

Three weeks had been enough for everything to go back to normal.

Smiling crookedly, Jack nodded. “Sounds great. Where do I sign?”

“Someone already signed for you.”

Jack glanced to the door after someone cleared their throat. Shock overtook him as he found Dracula standing at the door, looking completely unfazed or nervous, shoulders back and chin lifted. Just how he’d been the first day they met.

“You made it.”

“It’s your last day here, of course I made it,” Dracula sneered, shrugging as if this wasn’t a giant step.

“Oh, one second,” said another voice from the door. The doctor walked in, carrying a clipboard. He glanced over it before setting it down on the table. “I’m aware you were… ‘diagnosed’ with Polycythemia, which was actually misdiagnosed by nurses when you initially came in here for the bullet wounds. There was some erythropoietin in your blood, but since that’s happened… we can safely say you’ve had an entire blood transfusion and the hormones are out of your blood entirely.”

Dracula scoffed quietly, rounding the bed to sit on the right side of Jack. Feeling the vampire’s cold fingers intertwined with his was a new feeling as they hadn’t done it much before, but it was oddly familiar.

“So Jack doesn’t have to get blood drawn anymore, does he?” asked Dracula, a small grin on his lips.

“Nope. He’s… well, he’s a very healthy man at this point, and I reckon he can go back to work in about a week just to be safe.”

 _Work_.

Jack had nearly forgotten he had a job at all. The first few days with Dracula, it had been difficult to ignore the fact that he had somewhere else to be, but now… the idea of going back almost sounded boring. _Working_ sounded boring.

Did he like the adventure?

What was he saying? Of course he did. Being on his toes for nearly six weeks – that was, since Dracula had come from the sea – had been thrilling. It had been the most exciting thing to happen to him since Lucy asked him to sleep with her. And that hadn’t been all that interesting, considering he’d been too panicked to remember half of it.

Memory loss anxiety was what it was called.

But… he didn’t have anxiety with Dracula, it seemed. Even when he’d been running from him over and over, he still remembered all of it just like he would an experiment in the lab. There hadn’t been anxiety. There had been _thrill_.

And the fact that it was coming to an end because of work was disappointing.

“Thank you,” said Jack.

The doctor and nurse gave thin-lipped smiles and left. The room was quiet, save for the heart monitor still tracking Jack’s heart rate.

“Isn’t that convenient,” Dracula murmured.

“Isn’t it.”

The walk home was the best change of scenery he’d ever experienced. Though it was pretty cold – Dracula had brought him a heavy jacket and a scarf – it was still nice to see the world again. There were people who weren’t scared for their lives, and Jack could even pick out some vampires here and there. They were smiling.

They were real people.

A hand touched his, intertwining their fingers. Jack couldn’t suppress the growing smile on his lips as he glanced up to Dracula, who was too busy looking around and pretending to ignore the intimacy of the moment.

After a few seconds, Dracula looked down at him and smothered a grin. “I missed you, Jack Seward.” Another beat, and then, “But I never asked. How did… How did you end up killing Landon?”

The memory wasn’t a fond one. In fact, Jack had spent the entirety of his hospital stay trying to forget about it. Trying not to recall the bloody moments of the crime lord’s last few seconds. But it had to catch up with him eventually, didn’t it? And who better to talk about it than with someone who knew murder first-hand, too?

“I…”

Jack reached into his pocket. He’d been given his belongings back after they’d stripped him to work on him. He woke up to find Zev’s green sweater, cleaned entirely, and the fanged necklace Dracula had given him. Unlike with the sweater, they hadn’t cleaned it.

The entire pendant was red.

He pulled it out of his pocket, dangling it between them as they walked.

The vampire snorted. “You cut his head off with that small knife? No wonder you were in there for twenty minutes.”

Jack pursed his lips, sniffing from the cold. The only way to recovery was to speak openly about it, right? “It…” He sighed, pocketing it again. “It wasn’t difficult. I was… I was hyped on adrenaline and rage. Cutting his head off felt like cutting paper.”

The memory of how easy it had been, how he did it with absolutely no remorse… it was terrifying. But it had happened.

“Isn’t that something,” Dracula mused, getting out the key to his apartment. They had rounded the corner to the apartment building and now entered the doors to the warmth of the living area. “What a wonder you are, Doctor Seward.”

Jack threw the necklace to the ground.

They rode up the elevator together in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable silence – no, Jack was the most comfortable he’d ever been with someone. Knowing all the trauma they’d gone through together, knowing Dracula had had his back since the very beginning… What could be better than that?

Well, _not_ going through trauma at all would definitely have been better.

As Dracula opened his apartment door and Jack went to tell him how nostalgic it was to be here after weeks of running and fighting, he was silenced by lips crashing into his own. The force sent his back against the wall, but it didn’t deter him from kissing back, wrapping his arms around Dracula’s neck.

It was strikingly obvious how much taller the other was, as he had to crane his neck down to kiss Jack. He was also physically larger, as one hand was able to easily cup Jack’s chin while the other snaked around his waist, slipping under the fabric and resting against Jack’s bare skin.

His hands were freezing. As a dead person's might.

Dracula leaned back not soon after, staring down at Jack with hunger in his eyes. It was an intense look and, though Jack could have sworn he’d been getting better, his gaze darted down to his shoes.

“Jack,” breathed the vampire.

The doctor went to say something, but Dracula easily slipped his finger into Jack’s mouth, pressing the pad of his thumb onto his tongue and tilting his head up until Jack was sucking on his thumb, looking him in the eyes.

So that’s where this was going.

Keeping his thumb placed gently in Jack’s mouth, Dracula lingered in eye contact for only a moment before drawing his tongue down the boy’s chin… under his neck… With an elegant hand, he took the scarf from Jack’s neck and continued to trail his tongue down until he got to the collar of his shirt.

Jack gradually began to lift his arms as Dracula pulled his shirt off after taking his thumb from Jack’s mouth, revealing the pasty, scarred skin beneath. Surely it didn’t look awful, but… Jack always asked Lucy to keep his shirt on during sex. And now here he was, shirtless in front of the very reason he’d been given the scars in the first place.

 _No_ , Jack reminded himself. _It’s Dracula. Just Dracula._

He sucked in a shaky breath, glancing down at Dracula anxiously. The man looked up at him before giving a gentle grin.

“Would you rather the shirt on?” Dracula asked, his voice whispering over Jack’s exposed skin.

Shakily, Jack shook his head. “I-It’s fine,” he managed.

There was a pause from the vampire, then he clicked his tongue, trailing his tongue teasingly over Jack’s nipple. He shuddered, feeling his legs going weak. If it wasn’t for Dracula practically pushed up against him, he’d have fallen instantly.

“Look at you,” the vampire hummed between licks. “Absolute putty in my hands… Jack Seward, you are delicious.”

The words sent a chill down Jack’s spine as well as a familiar heat in the pit of his stomach. Taking in a sharp breath, he opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn’t know, maybe ‘we should shower first because I don’t actually know when I last showered’ – but Dracula was already on his knees in front of Jack, a strangely arousing sight.

No, not strangely.

Dracula was practically sex on a stick.

Jack couldn’t help but run a hand gently through the vampire’s hair, feeling slightly dizzy as he gazed down at the man on his knees. This was outrageously new.

Before Jack could think much of anything, the vampire had begun taking off his shoes and socks. This was done sweetly, gently, despite the growl that had been in his voice earlier. It reminded Jack that this was being done out of love, but that perhaps it wouldn’t seem that way.

Very soon after, Dracula pulled his sweatpants down, and, shakily, Jack stepped out of them.

Jack’s erection pressed earnestly against his boxers and Dracula took his sweet time palming it gently. When Jack moved to gain some more friction, the man pressed a hand to his stomach, applying just enough pressure to still Jack.

He couldn’t even find words, but when Dracula pulled down his boxers and gave a slow lick to the tip, Jack realized why he’d been dizzy. He’d been holding his breath. Quickly, he released it, but it sounded more like a pleasured moan than a mere breath. Probably because it was.

The vampire chuckled darkly, hand still pressing Jack to the wall. “So sensitive,” he cooed. “I think I’ll enjoy this.”

 _Oh, fuck_.

After a good five minutes of being teased with small licks here and there, Dracula took half of Jack’s erection into his mouth. He let out a gasp at the sudden feeling, curling his toes into the ground to resist collapsing instantly. But the hand against his stomach held him firm, and a new hand was now rested on his thigh.

A possessive hand.

Dracula took it slow, giving Jack what he wanted in painfully rhythmic bobs of his head. Jack resisted the urge to push the hand on his head down under he took the whole thing in, but he figured that wouldn’t go down very well.

Rather, he waited, taking in shaky pants and letting out hoarse moans, until finally, he felt close. The feeling was so overwhelming that he only managed to choke out, “I’m co-“ before he spilled down Dracula’s throat.

The vampire swallowed it all, probably, before standing up and towering over Jack.

The boy felt terribly vulnerable, nude and exhausted and small compared to the vampire’s hovering, powerful, fully clothed self. But the doubt and anxiety vanished when Dracula leaned down to kiss Jack’s neck, whispering, “What a good, good boy you are… All for me.”

Jack swallowed, unable to gather a reply, but it didn’t seem he needed one. His cock answered for him, hardening at the mere sound of approval, of ownership, of… want?

Perhaps Dracula found it funny, because he chuckled softly, continuing to kiss at Jack’s neck. His fangs nipped gently, biting here and there but never drawing blood. He probably still wasn’t ready for that.

Effortlessly, the vampire hoisted Jack up by his legs, pulling him close to him, hands under his ass. As if Jack weighed nothing, he began carrying him to the bed, still nipping and trailing kisses until he was dropped onto the bed.

Without another word, the vampire was shedding his clothing, tossing them to the floor.

He wasn’t asking permission.

Jack didn’t think it was necessary.

Suddenly, Jack was grabbed by the ankles and pulled until he was splayed out. Naturally, this was an uncomfortable position for Jack and he squirmed to pull his knees back up, but Dracula was already on top of him, planting kisses and nips near his thighs.

God, how covered in hickeys he would be tomorrow…

The thought was nothing if not arousing.

Dracula wasted no time, trailing his hand down to Jack’s hole. Without warning, he pushed in a single finger.

It wasn’t that Jack wasn’t _not_ used to this because of course, being a teen he’d discovered himself and things and whatnot and even mentioning it was embarrassing and he really needed to stop thinking about things like this during such intimate moments and-

A hasty kiss was pressed to his lips, silencing his thoughts. Jack didn’t hesitate to kiss back, moaning softly as Dracula began to pump the finger in and out of him.

Slowly, the vampire pulled back, eyes more life-like than they had ever seemed to Jack. But they were making eye contact. Full, direct eye contact. And Dracula seemed to be bathing in it.

“I can practically taste your anxiety,” whispered the vampire. “But you’re with me. Whatever you’re thinking about that worries you… don’t. I have you, Jack.”

And if there were more comforting words, Jack would never want to hear them.

He felt his shoulders relax first before his neck came to rest on the bed, then his thighs, too. _This_ was how it was supposed to be. With Dracula.

The vampire resumed pulsing his finger before he added another one, pushing gently into Jack until the boy stopped squirming and started moaning instead.

“You sound so beautiful,” the vampire hummed, tracing his teeth over Jack’s inner thigh again. It stung a little from all the other bites, but Jack was in no position to complain. He curled his finger up with purpose and got the reaction he probably wanted, which was Jack releasing a breathy moan and arching his back. He squeezed his eyes shut as Dracula continued to hit that pleasure spot, moaning as pleasure overtook his body.

And then it stopped.

Jack let out a soft whine, trying to catch his breath. “Wh… Why?”

The vampire mindlessly traced his hand down Jack’s leg, the other still having two fingers in him. He looked almost earnestly up to Jack, but his voice spoke in a demanding tone. “I need eye contact. Even if I’m not looking at you, you have to be looking at me. Do you understand?”

“I…” Jack was almost too out of breath to answer, but he managed a shaky nod. “Yes.”

“Wonderful,” the vampire breathed, continuing the pulse of his fingers.

This time, Jack didn’t look away from Dracula. He studied his facial expressions, watched his tongue flick out to lick the base of Jack’s cock. It was mesmerizing. Perhaps this was why Dracula had a fascination with eye contact and watching.

Not long after, Dracula sat up further, now on his knees, and Jack let out a throaty whine as he pulled his fingers out. However, he continued watching Dracula, waiting for his next move.

A mischievous grin rose to the man’s lips. “Aren’t you a sight,” he cooed. “Doing exactly as I said… how obedient you are.”

The words caused butterflies in Jack’s stomach and he hardly smothered a grin.

Dracula then brought his hand up to Jack’s mouth, sticking three fingers in his mouth and leaving them there for a second while Jack panted, gazing lazily up at the other. Unlike usual, his body was completely relaxed. But he was needy now and was gradually feeling his body tense up at the need for Dracula to go the next step.

Finally, the man pulled his fingers out of Jack’s mouth and used them to lubricate his cock.

Before Jack could even get a word out – as usual, not like he had anything to say – Dracula penetrated him, instantly going as deep as he could.

Jack let out a moan that was more like a pleasured groan, vision going white. He gripped the covers, curling his toes as Dracula began to thrust gently. When he was able to see again, he focused on Dracula again. The man had placed both hands on either side of Jack’s head, palms flat on the bed. He was sweating and panting but a grin was on his lips.

After a few moments of staring at each other while Dracula thrust gently, the vampire leaned down to press a deep kiss to Jack’s lips. He wasted no time kissing back and curling his hand into the other’s hair. His other hand tried to pull him closer, hand splayed on his back, nails accidentally digging into the man’s skin. But he didn’t seem to mind.

This wasn’t the time to wonder, but Jack questioned if he was capable of feeling pain.

Soon enough, Dracula leaned back to continue placing hot, wet kisses to Jack’s neck. “You are mine,” Dracula groaned, beginning to thrust harder.

Jack was already close. He wrapped his legs around Dracula’s torso as if it would make him go deeper. “Of course,” Jack sputtered, struggling to keep his focus on Dracula. He shuddered when the vampire licked the dip in his collarbone.

“And I’m…” Dracula let out a huff, which Jack didn’t really consider, but he didn’t need air, did he? “I’m yours. I’m only yours, Jack. I’ll only ever be yours.”

Unable to think past the pleasure, the only thing Jack could manage was, “Thanks.”

And then Dracula hit the right spot, and both of them came.

Jack whited out for a second, feeling his world collapse only for a moment before he came back to see Dracula gazing down at him with a soft smile on his lips, head tilted ever so slightly.

“Thanks?” he whispered, pulling out of Jack slowly. “A 500-year-old vampire admits he wants to be yours forever, Jack, and you reply with ‘thanks’?”

Still reeling from his orgasm, Jack only barely managed to sit up, using a blanket to cover himself up. “What was I supposed to say?”

Dracula scoffed, going to sit beside Jack. Absently, he traced a hand down the many hickeys he’d given him, perhaps checking to make sure they weren’t bleeding. “I don’t know, maybe, ‘sounds great’?”

“That would’ve been more mood-breaking than thanks.”

“Well, you could’ve accepted it, I gu-“

“Like a marriage proposal?” Jack scoffed, fighting back a grin. “I know you didn’t ask me to marry you during our first time.”

Despite being new to this century’s humor, the vampire was quick to catch on. He grinned slyly, shrugging. “And what if I had?”

“I would say I-“

Well, Jack had no idea what to say now.

The vampire snickered in response, effortlessly hoisting Jack up again. “I think what we need is a shower, Jack Seward, and not some dizzy talk of marriage, hm?”

And Jack agreed.

And Jack also agreed when Dracula asked if a second time was alright.

Afterward, Jack was curled up against Dracula in bed. The man provided absolutely no warmth, seeing as he was a vampire (and shirtless, even), but the two layers of covers and the heat did well against New York’s cold.

Jack still had to wear Zev’s hoodie as he lay staring at the ceiling, legs intertwined with Dracula’s.

“Jack,” Dracula whispered, running his thumb absently over Jack’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

The night was lulling him to sleep easily. That, plus the knowledge that he was absolutely safe in the arms of a man he trusted with his life… well, it was enough to let anyone go to sleep smiling.

“Zev… before he died, he made a comment, but it was a – it was a joke, sort of, but I don’t think he meant it as a joke because… you meant something to him. But when he said it, it really did get me thinking, and-“

What a strange thing.

Dracula, Lord of Vampires, rambling about a stupid crush.

“Jack,” Dracula said, and his tone made Jack look up at him. The man looked uncharacteristically nervous. “He said that… if I didn’t put a ring on it, he wou-“

“He’s not here anymore,” Jack said, resting his chin on Dracula’s chest so that they maintained eye contact. It seemed to relax the vampire. “And we have all the time in the world, Count Dracula. You have no competition because I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

A breath.

“But I think I would marry you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took a while... writing the scene was VERY difficult and i kept procrastinating 
> 
> but happy easter!
> 
> plz comment!!! plz plz plz comment and i'll be responding to everyone bcuz it's the final chapter and i'm,,, sad?
> 
> tbh i might do a book 2
> 
> idk should i?


	28. The Last Author's Note!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil' goodbye and what I plan to work on in the future :)

Hello, Readers! As we know, He's a Parting Gift is done. I've finished it finally - I think I started it in January? - and it's absolutely completely over forever. 

Unless...

Anyway, I've decided to now focus my writing on my own original creative ideas - and so I'm moving to Wattpad, since AO3 is more for fanfiction. My username there is the same as it is here - Charlie Cappuccino - and I have two completed works, The Angelic Demon and a very, very, very, VERY bad story called Shattered that I wrote closer to the beginning of middle school and have since edited very little. I hate it. Don't read it. 

The new story I'm working on is called Lamp Lid. It would mean the world to me if you checked it out.

Summary shit...

"On a witches twentieth year of life, she was supposed to go to the Diety's Lamp and be gifted a passion based on her spirit. It was then that she would become a full witch, and she would move to her passion's country and live a normal, happy, exciting witch life.

Celia Foster wasn't supposed to have that life. She knew from early on that she was destined to be sacrificed to the goddesses as a flickered witch - or, a witch with no spirit or passion - and have her eyes gouged out before being taken to the spirit world.

But after running into a certain someone after her car gets stolen, she realizes her life is going to be way more than what she'd thought. 

In the middle of a war and angry goddesses, Celia must somehow navigate survival and happiness in a world that needs her, but that she doesn't want. 

She is, after all, the god witch."

If you think that doesn't sound awful, please check it out. If you don't... don't? I'd love to read if you guys have anything, too. Isolation is so boring and I need to start reading again to make my writing better.

Anyway! Have a great day and I'm going to gently allude to a book 2 after I've finished Lamp Lid!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Scary Good](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23210233) by [Anne_Fairchild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild)




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